


Surrounded By Fire

by KieraRutherford



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pyromancy, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2019-10-16 07:10:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 89,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17545055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KieraRutherford/pseuds/KieraRutherford
Summary: The story of Kyrie Trevelyan, a pyromancer with a hatred of templars. Having been in the Free Marches while Kirkwall fell and before the explosion of the Chantry, she helped aid Anders in getting out people. With her mother they secured the safety of many young and old. When her mother was struck down by a templar she hunted him. Following him all the way to the Conclave, where she became the Herald. Only invested in revenge she is stunned by the amount of death and destruction around them. With offer to help her find the man responsible for her mother's death she throws herself fully into the Inquisition. Things aren't easy and every time she turns she feels the heat building. Can she trust this so called ex-templar? The world is burning and she's Surrounded by Fire.





	1. Sparks

Kyrie growled as she glared into the darkness, feeling the presence of suppressive energies. “Will no one tell me why I am here? Or why I am being treated like a common thug?” Gathering her strength, she rose to her knees. “Cowards. Templar filth.”

“At ease.” Cassandra’s voice broke the tension mounting. “Who are you?”

“The one in irons, tell me who asks, and I shall give my name.” Kyrie focused through the inky darkness trying to gather how many surrounded her and what best way to get out. “I am Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker.”

“Kyrie Trevelyan.” Biting the urge to utter ‘witch of Ostwick’ she could feel the blades pointed at her throat. “Now why am I here? In irons.”

“You were at the Conclave, yes?” Leliana came around behind Cassandra. “You were the only survivor.”

“Only one?” Rolling the words about on her tongue she shook her head. “Impossible. How? I… I don’t remember…” her head pounded when she tried to think back. “Who did this to me? Why am I in irons?” Repeating again, gruffer as she tugged at the irons, she felt a pulse in her palm. “What…” Opening her clenched fist the vibrant green light blinded her and she let out a low yelp. “Who did this to me? What magic is this?”

Leliana and Cassandra chatted back and forth in a low hum before addressing her. “You need to see this?” Roughly Cassandra hauled Kyrie to her feet, “do not try anything. We do not yet know of your guilt or innocence.”

“Hmm,” Kyrie smirked, “then I still have a chance.” She shook her head. “What do you wish to show me? Seeing as you will not tell me what has happened.” The irons were removed from her wrists only to be replaced with a length of rope. Rope burned, this gave her hope. She needed to buy enough time to get away from the templars, get out of the range of their magic cancelling skills. Cassandra walked her to the door and out into the cold mountain air. Blinking and squinting it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the new brightness. “There in the sky. We call it the Breach.” Kyrie looked up and her eyes flew wide, “madness.” 

“It is. It spews demons and seems to grow every moment. Your mark,” Cassandra pointed to Kyrie’s hand just as a pulse ripped through the air. Dropping her to her knees in pain. “It is tied to it and as it grows you die. Perhaps you are innocent in all this, but right now we need to move.”

“Move?” Kyrie grit her teeth as she rose, clasping her hands together in hopes of kill the throbbing. “You think I can stop that? Madness.” Shaking her head, she looked about, the towns people stared her down. All too well she knew their looks, their thoughts. “I shall accompany you, Seeker.”

“Good. This way, quickly.” As they paced through the village to the gate, Cassandra laid out all that had happened. Kyrie tried her best to keep it all sorted, to remember what was. Her timeline felt lost and when she’d heard she fell from a rift like one in the sky she felt further lost. 

Outside the village Cassandra removed the rope and motioned for her to follow. Ever leery Kyrie knew her chances lay with the Seeker, for the moment. What was a Seeker, she wondered as they trudged up the hill? Twice the Breach shuttered and twice Kyrie tumbled to the ground in pain. “If Solas is right, we may yet stop the madness and perhaps save your life.”

“Perhaps.” Kyrie spat back at her as they marched towards a bridge over a frozen lake. No sooner had her back foot crossed the earth to the stone did the bolt of lightning hit. Cursing as the bridge crumbled, she cast a small barrier about herself, unconcerned for the Seeker as her armor clattered off the rubble. Rising she dusted herself off only to see the inky glob before her bubble, “demons!” Cassandra yelled, “get behind me.” 

“Maker… fuck it all.” Looking about she caught sight of the staff laying in the debris. It wasn’t perfect, not like her worn and gnarled oak staff but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Snatching it up she pooled her energy to set the glob a blaze. “Maker take you,” she snarled only to just see the next shade come shuffling towards her. Clenching her fist, the fire swirled and rolled into a tight ball before she spun it out. Bursting into a cloud of strange ash she shook her head, “demons. In the physical world. What will they think of next?” 

“Stand down!” Cassandra bellowed her blade leveled at Kyrie. “Ha!” Tossing the staff at Cassandra’s feet Kyrie crossed her arms, “fine. Babysit me all you’d like. Not like I could be of use. Or the fact I have come along thus far and been no threat.” Seeing the slight flitch in Cassandra’s arm she nodded. “But I am a mouse toyed with by a cat. You have no fear of me. What is a Seeker? Some high end templar? You are bloody smarter than one.” Dipping down she picked up the staff, eyes locked on Cassandra who slowly sheathed her blade. “A Seeker of Truth, the Right Hand of the Divine. We are sent to maintain balance and watch over the Templars.”

“Now there’s where you fucked up. I saw Kirkwall.” Shaking her head, she motioned for them to continue. “You have some mage power canceling skills? Lyrium drinking bullshit?”

“No. I can set the lyrium in your blood on fire.” Cassandra dryly chuckled and Kyrie swallowed hard. That was it. No wonder she wasn’t afraid. Few could cast anything under pressure of pain. “Thank you.” Kyrie flatly stated as she scanned the road ahead. “Few Chantry folk are honest when asked a question. I appreciate it.”

“We are in this all together. There are more ahead, I can hear fighting.” Before Kyrie could ask another question, Cassandra had her blade drawn and was rushing up the hill. Grumbling under her breath Kyrie followed. As she rounded the top, she caught sight of the action below. Demons and men battling, a mage amongst them. Seeing the lithe elven man cast a barrier as a trio of demons bore down upon him, she reacted. Running down she cast out a wave of flame, engulfing the three. His head snapped back, a ghost of a grin upon his lips, “hurry we must seal it before more come through.” Grabbing her wrist as she neared, he thrust her left hand up and towards the rift. Before she could get a word out, she felt the rumble of power ebb from her hand, something deep inside, instinctual and new. It tingled and hummed as the stream of magic poured forward and stitched the tear shut. “How… how did you do that?” Snatching her hand back she cradled it to her chest, glaring at the man. 

“I did nothing. Your marked hand did the work.” Nodding he looked over her shoulder, “Seeker. I believe I am correct. This should seal the larger tear in the sky.” With a polite bow of his head he returned his gaze to Kyrie. “I am Solas.”

“He means to say he was the one who kept that thing from killing you in his sleep,” a dwarven male came forward, tugging on a pair of leather gloves. “Varric Tethras, at your service.”

“Kyrie Trevelyan.” She carefully uttered out, ever at the guard. “The Breach. You believe this will close it?”

“Unless you prefer to be ass deep in demons,” Varric gave her a smile. “I know we’re getting a bit stretched thin down here. And you won’t fair long if we don’t.”

“Varric is right,” Solas nodded leaning upon his staff. “That mark is consuming you as it consumes the sky. If we can stop one, we may stop both.”

“Then lead the way,” Kyrie gave a motion with her hand as she kept her eyes glued to the group of soldiers and men. Cassandra lead them through, towards a base camp all the while Kyrie struggled with the confines of her new companions. Varric was chatty and calming even if she didn’t want him to be. Years of living alone and being wary of anyone had her questioning everything. What would they do with her once she ‘fixed’ their problem? Truth be told she was going along simply to avoid dying. 

Her task wasn’t complete yet. Nearly a year ago, outside of Kirkwall her mother was struck down by a templar and she’d hounded him for the last year, tracking him to this Conclave. There she was going to get her revenge. But, why couldn’t she remember? Gripping her head in one hand she stopped in her tracks. “Hey, you alright Embers?”

“Embers?”

“Ya, you seem to be really good with fire.” Varric shrugged. “But you don’t look so hot right now. You feeling alright?”

“No. No matter how hard I try, I cannot remember what happened…” shaking her head she growled. “It is both infuriating and painful. Like something is stopping me. I wish it corrected.” Stamping her staff down she rolled her neck. “Perhaps blasting a few more demons will help.”

“It’s a Tuesday, I don’t see how it won’t help.” Chuckling he kept in pace with her, talking in his way and by the time they reached base camp Kyrie was thankful for him. Whether he knew it or not, his rambling had helped ease the tension from her shoulders. With her arms crossed she watched the reactions of Roderick and Cassandra. Rolling her eyes, she scoffed, “are we done playing higher than thou? The demons won’t stop themselves.” Glaring down Roderick, she let a slow grin pass over her lips. “If there is anything left of me come the end of this, perhaps you may have it.” 

“Why… I….”

“Enough.” Cassandra shook her head, “we need to move. We are losing ground by the second.”

“Then let us take the quickest route and be done with this.” Kyrie snarled, taking her staff in hand. “Less I do it myself.”

“Clear the valley!” Leliana yelled down as the group trudged towards the sound of more fighting. “Our man…”

“I don’t care.” Kyrie shook her head. “We seal this Breach, then we’ll talk.” 

“Embers really is a hot one,” Varric shook his head as he too passed a sidelong glance at Roderick who was still busy throwing a fit. 

Marching forward Kyrie didn’t care, they could all burn, she just needed to get back to finding him. To making sure he was dead. Ser Carroll. He needed to die, and this was in her way. Closing in on the fighting she cast fire left and right, cutting a path towards the small rift in the middle of a group of soldiers. Giving it her best shot she lifted her hand towards the tear and as before the same sensation cascaded over her. In a moment the hole was gone, the last of the demons easily defeated. “Seeker Cassandra,” the voice was familiar. One she’d thought she’d heard before. Turning her head in the direction of the voice she crossed her arms tightly, “Knight-Captain Cullen.” Growling out his title she watched his brows furrow as if he was searching for a name to her face. “Don’t bother. You may not know me, but I know of you.” 

“We…”

“Get the men back, we’re heading to the Temple.” Cassandra motioned to the men staggering about. “We’re going to seal the Breach.”

“We?” Kyrie eyed Cullen. He didn’t really look like the monster she’d heard so much of. The bastard with the brand. Yet, she could feel the templar on him, sense the connection to the Fade even if it was slight. Not like the other templars she was used to dealing with. Rolling her eyes, she thumbed over her shoulder. “You talk with the mage killer, I’m going this way.” Not pausing she marched towards the small drop down. Hopping over she could hear two sets of feet plop down next to her. Glancing over her shoulder she rolled her eyes again, “come to see the show? Or taking part in the royal we?”

“Neither. You will need aid securing the Breach.” Solas nodded his staff clipping sharply off the ground as he kept in stride with her. Varric shrugged, “can’t do it alone Embers. Bianca would be very upset if I let you go in there without proper backup.”

“Thanks.” Kyrie grimaced. More innocent people thrust into danger outside of her power. “Stay back. Someone needs to tell the story later.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Varric chuckled, only to be silenced. Before them the burnt-out husks of men and women caught forever in a gaze of shock and horror stunned them. “There.” She pointed towards a looming crystalline structure that was suspended above them. “Now, how do I….”

“We need to get down there,” Solas pointed out as the sound of boots came clattering behind them. “Great,” Kyrie looked over to see broken staircases leading down. “This way.”

“Wait!” Cassandra yelled as a group of soldiers rushed with her. “We do not know…”

“A lot of things, yet we move forward.” Kyrie shrugged. “I will not fall here. Not now.” Pushing forward the group arrived at the base of the Breach. “This one is not active, it will need to be opened with the mark before it can be properly shut.” Solas took a couple steps back as Cassandra yelled out commands. Kyrie just gazed at the thing, watching as it rolled and rocked, spinning and tumbling over itself. “It’s almost beautiful,” she sighed as she clutched her staff. “Ready?”

“As we’ll ever be Embers.” Varric patted Bianca before she turned and opened the rift. 

Fighting broke out, as Kyrie did her best to keep herself above it all. As the large pride demon fell a booming voice broke out, blanketing the area. Followed by another voice that Cassandra identified as the Divine. “She called out to you…” 

“Seal it!” Varric yelled as he finished another demon. “We can talk about this later!”

Kyrie stuck her hand up and this time felt like everything pulled against her. Struggling to pull her hand back she could feel the vibrant ring of darkness edge over her vision. “Not… yet…” Grunting she blacked out. 

Cassandra yelled for everyone to get back. “Is she still breathing?” Varric rushed forward and dropped beside her. “Embers is still with us!” 

“Seeker!” Cullen came rushing over. “It’s…”

“You’re a sturdy bastard, get over here Curly.” Varric scooped up Kyrie’s head keeping it from laying in the dirt. “Come on, she needs a place to rest. She can have my cabin.”

“Maker’s breath. Alright.” Grunting Cullen bent down and with Varric’s help managed to get her into a comfortable position to carry. “She’s light as a feather!”

“Our fire bird might fly away if you don’t hang on to her.” Varric chuckled as they began their trek back to Haven. 

Hearing someone enter the room Kyrie jumped her fists radiating a blue flame as she blinked furiously to shake off the fog of sleep. Panting in fear her eyes darted about the strange room. “Where am I? What…” Realizing the young elven girl was whiter than a goose feather she released her spell. “I am sorry.” Settling into a calmer sit she huffed. “Where am I?”

“You are back in Haven my lady. You sealed the Breach, you did.” Wringing her fingers, the young girl seemed to struggle to swallow. “The lady Seeker and Master Tethras had the Commander bring you here. To rest my lady. I…” freezing on the spot she began to tremble. “The lady Seeker said to tell her when you woke. Right away she said.”

“Wait! Where can I find the lady Seeker?”

“The Chantry, up the hill. Right away, she said.” Bouncing the girl spun on her heel and burst from the cabin. “Wonderful.” Groaning Kyrie stood and checked herself over. Feeling well enough she looked about the room. A chest full of clothes, a note upon the table and a few potion compounds scattered on the same surface. “Interesting.” Changing into warmer clothes she read over the letter. “Good work, Adan.” Flicking it into the air it burst into flames. “Now to see the Seeker.” Pulling her shoulder length milk chocolate hair up into a ponytail she tied it off. Taking the pair of gloves, she’d found in the chest out, tugging them over her hands she drew in a long breath before she walked out the door. 

Blinking against the white light of sun reflecting off the snow she muttered a curse as her eye watered. “It’s her,” someone blurted out. “The Herald of Andraste.”

“Maker’s tits,” she rolled her eyes, “what a contrite title.” As her vision cleared, she was stunned to see a row of towns people standing about her. “Wha…”

“The Herald! She sealed the Breach!” A homely looking woman in rags grabbed her hand and shook it, tears in her eyes. “You saved us all. The Blessed Lady herself has picked you to save us.”

“I think you’ve clearly hit your head,” Kyrie slowly took her hand back, glad for the heavy leather. “Where is the Seeker?”

“In the Chantry, up the hill that way. She’s been waiting for you.” Bowing quickly the woman was absorbed by the crowd about her. Pushing her way through the horde she managed to break free and rush up the steps. Turning back the crowd hovered just a few feet back, as if some invisible barrier blocked them access. Walking up to the door of the Chantry she drew it a sharp breath of icy air before pushing through. 

Instantly she was hit by a wall of heat. Pleasant and heavy, thick with incense. Half choking on the scent she waved her hand in front of her face pushing a bit of force magic to clear the air around her. When her eyes finally adjusted to the shift in light she wasn’t impressed. “They turned a barn into a church. How quaint.” Walking down the hall she noticed people directly avoiding her gaze, yet seemingly glued to her every movement. Catching the noise coming from the end of the hall she cautiously approached it. Hearing her family name through the door. Pushing it wide she strolled in, shoulders back, head high. “I think my ears are burning.” Folding her arms over her chest she watched the colour drain from Roderick’s ruddy cheeks before he puffed up again and began bellowing. “I want her clapped in irons and dragged to Val Royeux!”

“You can try,” Kyrie’s hands lit instantly in violet flames. “I’d be glad to see you burn, murderer.”

“Enough.” Cassandra waved her hand, “leave us.” Instantly the two templars clapped their fists to their chest and left the room. Unsure of what was happening, Kyrie backed into the room, putting space between her and Roderick. “Treason!” He squawked. “No.” Leliana caught Kyrie’s attention as she stepped forward. “She aided us in sealing the Breach, but it is temporary. We must uncover how to seal it fully and those who are responsible.” 

“We didn’t seal it?” Kyrie uttered under her breath, her flames snuffing out. “But…” humming to herself she ignored the arguing playing back and forth as she pondered the events. Tugging her left glove off she ran her finger tips over the magical rift upon her palm. Her hands were covered in long healed blistering scars. Learning to master the art of pyromancy came with some caveats and her hands bore silent witness to her struggles. Feeling the edge of the strange magic she was confused at the lack of pain or discomfort. Numbness answered her probing. Passing a bit of magic over it rendered no change in sensation or in the constant humming it produced. “My lady,” Leliana cleared her throat snapping her from her study, “hmm?”

“We were discussing the Inquisition. I know this seems as though it is happening quickly. Allow me to introduce you to the people in this room.” Cassandra drew in a tight breath before she went about the formalities. When she arrived at Cullen, Kyrie croaked, “you made the Bastard of the Brand your General? I’m sure the mages feel so reassured.”

“I am no longer a templar. I am a member of the Inquisition.” Cullen spoke it flatly as his eyes scanned over her. Kyrie was a tall woman, slightly thinner than he thought she ought to be and clearly distrustful of templars. “I…”

“I believe nothing till I see it.” Kyrie cut him to the quick before turning back to Cassandra. “What does your Inquisition want? It seems the people of this village believe me to be some Maker sent blessing.” Pausing she ran the title she’d heard over again. “Herald of Andraste. Maker’s tits.” Bursting into laughter she nearly doubled over. After several wheezing snorts she waved her hands. “Oh, this is rich. Do you know who I am? What I am?” Barely getting the words out she held a fire ball above her left hand. “I’m a pyromancer. The Herald of the Blessed burn victim is a fucking fire bug.” Snorting again she waved the fireball off, “how do you plan on working that one?”

“I will be frank with you. Were you to walk out those doors now we can offer you no protection.” Cullen leveled a gaze at her, but she was certain she caught the quick and silent chuckle. “If you aid us in securing assistance to seal the Breach, we can offer you safety. Food, a bed, clothes, whatever you need.”

“He is truthful.” Josephine nodded along, her fingers tight about a quill. “Chancellor Roderick will see you obtained somehow, somewhere and brought to Val Royeux. There, I can only say they will put you on trial.”

“Then it seems I am your fiery Herald.” Offering a half ass bow Kyrie crossed her arms. “I’m assuming you know what is needed and I would like to get this over with. My hunt was interrupted.”

“Hunt?” Cassandra paused and turned to her. “Is that…”

“I was at the Conclave for personal reasons. Damn the Chantry and their shackling of mages. Templars are the worst. They follow blind orders, murder and rape. Brand those they can’t break.” Glaring at Cullen she could feel the fire burning inside of her, the urge to light the room on fire building. “I want what was denied me, what was taken from me.” Breaking her lock from Cullen she turned to Cassandra. “You’re a Seeker. I seek someone. An animal that needs to be put down.”

“Personal vendettas aside, we can help you. Once we get some traction, I will send out word.” Leliana nodded. “See me alone and I will aid you.” 

“Agreed.” Kyrie looked back at the room, seeing everyone on edge. “I will be in what I assume if my cabin now. I have healing capabilities and fire. Whatever you need, as long as I get what I need.” Dipping her head, she went to leave when Cullen cleared his throat. Pausing in her step she cocked her head. “Yes?”

“We know so little about you. There is little on your activities or abilities. We…”

“I’ll write you a letter.” Flipping him off over her shoulder she stormed out the door. Passing through the hall and out into the snowy mid-day she looked up at the sky. The remaining scar of the Breach pulsed and flickered in time with the mark upon her hand. Pulling her glove back on she didn’t want to speak to anyone. Heading straight for her quarters she caught sight of the tray loaded with food upon her desk. Shutting the door, she let her shoulders sag. “Mom, I don’t know what I’m doing here. You always had the answers. I know I should want to help, but not with that bastard out there walking free. I promise I will find him, and I will avenge you.” Wiping at the tears slipping down her cheeks she flopped down on the bed. “Things have to get better, right?” Curling into a ball she cried silent tears till they would come no more. Feeling her belly settle and hunger replace the rage she cleaned herself up. Eating her fill, she saw the pile of papers and ink pot. Writing down a single name on the page she let it dry before folding it over and addressing it to Leliana. “I won’t fail you. I promise.”


	2. Quiet Storm

Leliana collected the letter that night and promised her she would look into finding him. She also informed her of the plans to trek out to the Hinterlands. To meet a Mother who could possibly lend aid. Kyrie had passed through the Hinterlands on her way to the Conclave. It was a mass grave of mages and templars locked in their foolish struggle. “It’s a war zone.” Kyrie dryly replied as Leliana handed her a letter. “We must lend aid. There are people caught in the middle, mages who deserve better than to be hunted for being born.”

Kyrie paused at Leliana’s words, searching the pale maiden’s face for any sign of deceit. “I thought you would be concerned about the poor roasted templars. Their armor turns into a kiln when flame is applied.” Keeping a neutral expression, she was surprised at the lack of emotion from Leliana. “They kill women, children without thought. I have seen innocence lost at a word.” Shaking her head Leliana smiled sweetly, “the Hero of Fereldan was a mage as was the Champion of Kirkwall.” Tilting her head, she left Kyrie standing at the doorway of her cabin. 

Keeping to herself for the evening she focused on reading the letters Leliana had handed her. Cassandra, Solas and Varric were to aid her in traveling to the Hinterlands. From there, they were to meet up with a Mother Gisele. Anything else was extra to be decided upon arrival. They were giving her the power to decide their actions. Blinking several times, she re-read the passage over again. Shrugging she threw the paper into the air, burning it into ash in a second before reading the next one. Leliana wanted her to look into some missing Grey Wardens. Apparently, there was word of one in the Hinterlands. Again, she tossed the paper into the air and let it render to ash. Stretching she felt the exhaustion creep back over her. Being angry and burning some of her mana away had drained what little energy she had. 

Stripping down she crawled into bed. It didn’t take long for her to get comfy and drift into a light sleep. Come morning she felt rested enough to begin the trek, and it seemed that was the plan. Passing through the gate she noticed the rows of men and women clanging swords together. “You there, that’s a shield in your hand! Block with it. If he were you enemy, you’d be dead.” Cullen shouted out as two recruits fumbled mercilessly. Pausing for a moment she watched as he carefully corrected them before pushing them to continue their training. Men dressed in teal hoods came running up, holding letters and he turned to read them with lightning speed before passing out more directions. “Curly’s efficient.” Varric chuckled walking up beside Kyrie. “I’m guessing you don’t like him though. Story there?”

“Templars are bastards.” Kyrie grunted as she turned her head and walked alongside the dwarf. “They don’t care who they shiv just as long as the Maker blesses them for doing it.”

“You sound a lot like a guy I used to know. Blondie would agree in a heart beat.” Varric sighed heavily. “Listen, Curly isn’t a templar anymore. He’s…”

“The Bastard with the Brand.” Kyrie paused in her step. “You… were you at Kirkwall?”

“Yes.” Varric toyed with his gloves. “Blondie… his perfect fix was a mess.”

“You knew the mage that blew up the Chantry?” Kyrie pitched her voice low as she closed the distance to Varric. “Was it… what really happened?”

“It’s a long trip to the Hinterlands. If you want to hear the whole story.” Varric’s eyes lit up as the grin spread across his lips. “Every word. Leave nothing out.” Kyrie nodded as they met up with Cassandra and Solas. 

Trudging through the landscape Varric spun his tale, going over the details until they reached their destination. “Hawke really slew a dragon, and then bought the Bone Pit?” Kyrie chuckled as they arrived at the base camp. “Ya, not the brightest thing she ever did but that’s our Hawke.” Varric sighed plopping himself down upon the stump by the fire. “Hawke always had a talent for getting us into trouble, well paying trouble, but trouble none the less. Curly and her had a thing for a bit I think.”

“Cullen and the Champion?!” Kyrie rushed to sit next to him. “But he’s a templar and I thought she was with Fenris?”

“In the end she was with Fenris.” Snickering Varric dropped his pack next to himself. “Fenris…. That’s different story. If you want to…”

“Please!” Kyrie was smitten with the Champion from the first time she’d heard of her. The powerful elemental mage Clara Hawke and her intrepid band of misfits who saved Kirkwall as many times as they destroyed sections of it. Listening intently, she didn’t catch Cassandra settle in beside her, glued to Varric’s words as he went over the romances of Clara Hawke. Her flirtation with Sebastian Vael, how she seduced the pirate queen Isabela, wooed the rebel mage only to settle seriously with the broody elf Fenris. “Oh, come now!” Kyrie huffed. “You’re telling me, straight out that you and her never. You know.” 

“Not once. I know, it’s hard to believe any woman could resist my charms but Hawke and I are friends. Nothing more.” With a grin upon his lips he stretched. “But it’s getting late Embers. Got a lot of work to do tomorrow. Best to get some rest while we can.” Standing up he was quickly ushered to a tent not far from the log. Kyrie sighed. She really wanted to know what happened. Dusting herself off she looked about her. It was nightfall, their dinners eaten and long since cleared away. Several soldiers all dressed in the same uniform, a blazing eye upon their chests, paced about. Clearly expecting some trouble of some kind. Not feeling the coolness of the night air, she knew it was best to turn in, tomorrow would be difficult at best and downright troublesome at the worst. 

“Your tent is over here, Lady Herald,” a young faced man offered to take her to her tent, a bright smile upon his lips. “Thank you.” Unsure what to do she took his offer, pausing at the entrance to her over night shelter she shook her head. “Why do you serve the Inquisition? If I may be so bold to ask. You look so young.” 

“My lady. The Inquisition are the only ones willing to do anything. The Chantry is tied up in its politics, mages and templars at each other’s throats and the King busy with royal shite. The Seeker wants to do right by the people. Fix the things the lot won’t focus on. We’re saving lives, feeding the hungry and keep the cold warm. I say we… you are a Maker blessing your worship.” Blushing he nodded sharply before pressing his fist against his chest and bowing his head. “Good evening my lady. Rest well.” 

Kyrie wanted to say something, ask another question but she felt like she had her answer. Dipping into her tent she disrobed down to her small things and climbed onto the cot. Pulling the blankets up she didn’t know how to feel. Helping people had always been her mother’s work. Travelling from village to village, living on the outskirts and offering healing when trust was earned. Then when she was concerned about possible templar presence, they moved on. Mixing healing potions of all kinds, that was her earliest memory. How her mother’s strawberry blonde hair would glow in the sunlight as they picked different plants. “What do I do mom? Maker knows I could use a sign or your guidance right now.” 

Slipping into a dreamless sleep she woke to the sound of shouting. Groaning she dressed quickly before ushering into the chaos of the day. “We need to hurry. There are both rebel mage factions and templars heading towards the Crossroads!” Cassandra was hastily tying her belt about her hips as others were pulling on armaments. “We need to hurry.”

“I… I have no armor…” Kyrie hadn’t even thought about the fact she was in a war zone. She’d lost herself in the stories and now she was panicking. “I…”

“Here.” Solas nodded as he handed her a robe. “It’s been enchanted. Strong enough to withstand a few arrows, a sword swipe or two but nothing more. You can move easily in it and it will amplify your mana.” 

“Thank you,” taking it in her hands she pulled her arms through the sleeves, wrapping the strange feeling fabric about her hips she took the belt held out by the elven man and tied it quickly. “I… it is an odd feeling.”

“Circle mages are quite used to these types of battle robes. You are no Circle mage.” His last words were more a question than a statement and while she wanted to answer there was no time. Following the people as they moved out, she wasn’t entirely sure what was going on or how it was being done. In the midst of the chaos she felt someone touch her hand. “Hey Ember, deep breath now. We’re going to protect Mother Gisele.”

“Why is she at the Crossroads? What is going on?”

“She has opened a clinic to aid those caught in the middle.” Solas shook his head, easily catching stride with Varric and Kyrie. “Her location was fine until the rogue templars and rebel mages fight moved towards them. She has no means to defend herself.” 

“I see.” Kyrie gripped the staff in her hand tighter. While she had combat experience, and training with her magic she’d never faced human foes. Slaying demons was far different from another breathing individual. Not that she hadn’t killed, no there had been times when death was needed. Lame druffalo, wounded rams, even the occasional fox but her mother had been the one to deal with men. Only once had she been part of it, in a blind rage, in pure defense she’d stabbed a man. A templar to be precise. Not once did it bother her. Nor should it have. If it wasn’t for her mother’s teaching and her usual practice of wearing a dagger at her hip, she may not have come out of it as lucky as she had. 

Shaking her head, she tried to rid herself of the memories, she tried to focus on moving. Just putting one foot in front of the other. “First battle Embers?” Varric’s voice was pitched low as he got close to her. “Don’t think about it too closely. I’ll buy you a pint when we get back to Haven. Or two.” 

“Th… thank you.” Trying not to show any sign of the growing fear inside of her she faked a smile. “Perhaps two. I can’t say I can pay.” Frowning she remembered when she came around in Haven, there was nothing on her person. Making a mental note to speak with Cassandra about her belongings she reached out and touched Varric’s shoulder. “You must tell me more of your story.”

“Ah now that is always free Embers.” Varric chuckled before his grip tightened on his crossbow. “Stay near me, we’re close.” 

Keeping in close to him she noticed Cassandra at the front motioning to men and women, instructed them where to go. They drew their swords, shields raised as they entered the area known as the Crossroads. It was open, too open for her liking. Far too many places to be reached and not enough cover. “Templars!” Cassandra yelled. “Stand down, we do not wish to fight you. We are the Inquisition.”

“They do not seem to care Seeker!” Solus cast his hand out, preventing the arrow from reaching her. “We must attack.” 

Kyrie did as Varric said and stuck beside him, providing cover where she could and launching fire where she saw openings. It wasn’t as easy as she figured it would be. Each time she was confident to cast she was too caught up in concern that she may inadvertently set a friendly team member on fire. “Focus on the archers!” Varric shouted to her over the din of battle. “They’re more spread out, less chance of frying a friendly.” 

Scanning the field, she noticed them. Standing back a way from the fighting, still wearing the symbol of the templar’s emblazed sword upon their breast plates. Ebbing the burning energy within herself she focused it through the staff before letting her barrage of flames engulf the small group of archers. Their screams and flailing mounted over the wall of sound echoed by swords and armor clatter against each other. “How do you like your templars Varric? Char broiled or seared to perfection.” 

“Dead is my best answer Embers, that’s dark.” Varric nervously chuckled as he launched another volley off towards an approaching templar wave. “They’re breaking!”

“Keep up the pressure!” Solas yelled as he whipped about, his staff spinning as magic flew with precise control and elegance. “Incoming!” Cassandra bellowed as a group of mages approached. “We are the Inquisition, we mean you no harm.” Solas tried to reason only to narrowly throw up a barrier as a shard of ice flew towards him. “No good Chuckles. Going to have to take them out too. Anyone got eyes on Mother Gisele?”

“I do.” A dwarven woman with a bow came bounding towards Kyrie. “Mother Gisele is held up in the house just over there, with at least a dozen wounded, maybe more. We need to end this before they set the valley on fire.” 

“Good idea,” Kyrie smirked as she caught a group of mages, their spell books hovering before them as they chanted. Raising her staff, she drew the Fade about her and cast. Above their unsuspecting head a storm of fire began to rain upon them. “Hard to cast with your coats on fire, isn’t it?” Controlling the swirl of mana, she drove the flames down until all that remained of the mages were ash. 

“That’s all of them,” Cassandra huffed as she sheathed her sword. “We need to check on…”

“I shall speak with the Mother.” Kyrie tipped her head the smell of burnt flesh, iron and blood heavy in the air. “Try to stay down wind.” Waving her hand, a breeze pushed the offensive odor away from her delicate nose. Taking long strides, she ignored the carnage about her to get to the cabin several hundred feet away. Away from the gore and death. As she approached, she felt a weight settle over her shoulders, this was her life now. Or was it? What was she doing? From local village healer to the Herald of Andraste. What did it all mean? Thinking back upon the words of the young man at the base camp she had to agree with one thing; it had to be better. Better than sitting in a corner and hoping for change. For someone else to come along and fix it. Whether she agreed with any of it, this part was in her hands. 

Outside the hut she could make out people rushing back and forth, some wearing the distinct crimson of the Chantry. Kyrie wasn’t a believer, nor was she faithful. Why give credit for her hard work and effort to some invisible force? She worked hard, toiled and struggled; the right and credit was hers. Trying to set aside her pre-conceived notions she watched. Watched as both mage and Chantry folk worked together to heal and tend to the wounded. Using both magic and herb to treat injuries. “Hmm…” Leaning upon her staff she noted the two women mixing over a large cauldron, the smell of elfroot heavy. “Add a pinch more of embrium, and a dash of spindleweed. You’ll stop the bleeding faster and increase the healing properties of the elfroot. If you can find a bit of Royal Elfroot, use some of the pollen on burns.” Kyrie smiled as she spoke, calm with a bit of command to her tone. “Thank you, Serah?”

“You do not recognize the Herald of Andraste?” Mother Gisele remained calm as she came about the corner, her hands folded neatly about her waist. “Her words are true. I’ve heard of such healing techniques in the Marches.” 

“It’s a family recipe, or at least that’s what I’ve been told.” Dipping her head Kyrie smiled. “My name is Kyrie Trevelyan, I prefer it to Herald.”

“Humble. A good omen. Walk with me and we may yet speak.” Motioning gracefully with her hand she walked a ways with Kyrie speaking as she went. Informing her of the current strain and discord amongst the Chantry members. The ones who remained and seemed set only to consolidate their power instead of lending aid to those in need. There was a genuine sense of concern and heartbreak as she spoke. Kyrie agreed easily that something needed to be done and that she would be open to hearing more. Mother Gisele seemed to brighten as she moved them back towards the cabin, “we shall make our journey to Haven. Your spymaster will no doubt wish for names and I have little issue providing them. It has been an honor and pleasure to meet you.”

“I wish it were under different circumstances.” Kyrie could see the Inquisition soldiers collecting the dead bodies. Stripping them of their valuables and stacking them high, torches in hand. “There is too much death.”

“That we can agree upon. But I see you changing things. There is a power to you, something new and fierce. Perhaps you are the Herald sent by the Blessed Andraste. No matter how, you were needed and you have arrived.” With a disarming smile and practiced bow Mother Gisele left her where she stood. 

With her head held high Kyrie calmly returned to Cassandra, “we have what we need…” seeing people begin to gather about, young and old, weak and strong she swallowed her fears. “There is much to do here. Is there nothing we can do?”

“What would you have us do?” Cassandra asked the questions with her usual flatness but even Kyrie could feel the tension building from the Seeker. “I want to make things right. This… they have nothing and they need aid. Aid the Chantry has woefully neglected.” 

“Agreed.” Cassandra let the words slip out upon her breath like a sigh. “Let us speak to Head Scout Harding. She will know how best to spend our energy.”

Two weeks. She wasn’t confident it was enough, but the letters came more urgent than the day before. “We must return to Haven. I know…”

“It will never be enough.” Kyrie gritted out. “Until the blasted Chantry is put back together. I… what is the next step?”

“We will need to meet with our council, discover what Leliana has learned and decide our next move.” Cassandra met Kyrie’s eyes, seeing the depth of loss and confusion. “We will make this right. You have my word.”

“Words mean little if we cannot act.” Huffing Kyrie nodded, “when do we leave?” 

Kyrie relentlessly pushed them back to Haven, leaving little room to rest. By the time they dragged themselves through the gates Varric half collapsed onto the ground. Kyrie helped pick him up, “I’ll pay for a hefty meal and two rounds Varric. I apologise.”

“I’ll be there waiting Embers. I'll have Fissa put it on your tab.” Weakly smiling the stout man hobbled off towards the tavern. 

“Can we arrange a meeting now?” Kyrie turned to face Cassandra who was speaking with a messenger. “They are waiting for us.” 

Marching beside Cassandra, Kyrie noticed the serious glances shifted back and forth from man to woman. “Something’s wrong…” she uttered under her breath as they hastened through the doors of the Chantry and into the council’s room. 

“We have news,” Leliana met them at the door. “Thank you for finding Warden Blackwall, but his information is limited. It is concerning.”

Kyrie took a look at the table, a large map laid out held several markers and notes. Looking over it she ignored the conversation between the four members. There was so much to do, so many needing help. Touching the edge of the table her face fell. Since the explosion in Kirkwall everything had changed. Many people were stuck in the middle of conflicts that they either were unable to handle or unwilling to. In earnest it wasn’t their fight. 

“Herald,” Cullen cleared his throat. “I do not agree with you heading to Val Royeux. It isn’t safe and we have no way of…”

“Guaranteeing my safety. I know.” Keeping her eyes down she could make out the stack of papers before him. Some with hurried scrawls, others in a more elegant hand. “I shall personally travel with her.” Cassandra spoke up. “It would benefit the people to see the Herald and to hear our side.”

“Or it could be a trap. I will not…”

“A Templar with a bleeding heart. Interesting, usually they only experience that upon their death bed.” Dryly looking up to meet his eyes she could see the fire burning in them. Quiet rage beginning to bubble just under that controlled stance. “They could try, Templar. But by the time they reach me all of Val Royeux will be in flames. I think the prophet of Andraste burning down a cursed Orlesian city is a powerful statement either way.” Dragging her finger along the image of Lake Calahad she sighed. “I doubt they would be so foolish. Mother Gisele says some can be swayed, that could be used to provide aid for those in need. Is that not what the Inquisition stands for?” Keeping her eyes locked with Cullen she was waiting. Testing to see if he would flinch. Would he react as all who feared mages act? 

“My main concern is you.” Not breaking his gaze upon her he spoke with a genuine sense. A purity she hadn’t felt possible. “I would not risk you for a foolish show of arms. We could…”

“We need to address the clerics. Our knowledge coupled with Kyrie’s strength will earn us great favor which we need.” Josephine shook her head, penning down a note. “The Seeker is more than capable enough to keep control of the situation.” 

When Kyrie turned to focus her attention on Josephine, Cullen took a moment to study her. What little they knew from documents could fit in a thimble. She was a Trevelyan, an old and wealthy family line from Ostwick. Yet the records of her and her mother were scarce. Her father had died when she was just a young child and that was when they disappeared. Whispered rumors existed of a pair that travelled the woods and lived in huts outside of town. Offering healing herbs and potions. Her birth records stated she was born in 9:07 Dragon. Making her a year younger then him. Yet upon looking at her features she seemed younger. Her light skin was flecked with freckles, nearly as dark as her milk chocolate hair. They spread from her cheeks down to her chin. Following them down he caught the thin silvery wisp of a scar from the tip of her chin up to the corner of her lips. Thick, lush lips that were currently hiding a playful grin. Looking to her eyes she noticed how dark they were. Like swirling inky pools that shone in the candle lit room. “Commander, we shall retire for the night and then make our journey to Val Royeux in a day’s time. We all need to rest and restock our supplies.” 

“Agreed. If there is anything you require…”

“Armor. Proper damn armor.” Kyrie sighed tugging at the belt holding on her robe. “This isn’t armor. Not proper armor. A dress is best suited for the ballroom, not a battlefield.” Her statement made Cullen snort. Cocking her head, she slapped her hands upon her hips, “what do you find so amusing?” 

“Robes. Not a dress but I can understand where you are coming from. Harriet can craft something for you. I will make sure he has access to whatever you require.” Smirking he rested his arm across his scabbard. “It will be ready for you upon your return from Val Royeux.” 

“Thank you.” Eyeing him up and down she wasn’t sure what to think. “I shall be in the tavern if I am needed.” Tipping her head, she left them to their debates. Heading straight to the tavern she quietly poked her head in the room, looking for Varric. Seeing him in the corner, sipping from a tankard she waved at him before heading to Fissa. Going through what was available, she put in her order before moving to sit with Varric. “A round on me is coming.” She smiled as she settled into her chair. “I hate to be the baroness of bad news but we’re heading to Val Royeux in a day. I’d recommend getting in your drink and sleep tomorrow.”

“Slave driver.” Varric huffed as he drained the last of his ale. “Val Royeux huh? You sure about that one Embers.”

“Don’t have much of a choice really. If we are to make things right, start again, I’d rather be on the good side of history. Mother would be proud.” Weakly smiling she was glad for Fissa who’d come to serve her meal and bring the ale. “Cheers!” She lifted her mug and tipped it towards him before taking in a mouth full. Letting the honey sweetened liquid slowly drip down her throat she relished the soft burn. “So.” Placing her mug down she ripped into the small load of bread. “Last part of your tale our Champion was coming up from the deep roads. Could I trouble you with my request for more?” 

“You buy, and I’ll talk.” Tenting his fingers, Varric leaned back in his chair and picked up where he left off.


	3. Smoked Out

Kyrie spent her time with Varric. Hearing him weave the story of the Champion and her struggle to save Kirkwall as often as she destroyed sections of it. When Varric had enough or needed to deal with the merchant’s guild, she found herself wandering. Out the front gates and down to the frozen lake. Skirting around the edges she noticed patches of elfroot poking up through the fresh snow. Dipping down she pushed some of the snow away, revealing more of the bright green plant. Plucking a few leaves, she harvested the seeds and tore off a few roots. Stashing it all into a pouch at her hip she rose and looked about. 

Across the lake she could see someone running. Wearing nothing but a thin pair of pants and long sleeve tunic. “They’ll freeze out here. Fool's child.” Shaking her head, she continued walking, her mind running over the last few weeks events. There was so much happening, far too fast and if it wasn’t for the green pulsing scar across her hand she might run. As far and as fast as her feet could take her. But to what end? This strange magic was something she didn't understand. 

Her goal would surely be far away from now and well out of her tracking abilities. Without the Inquisition she may never find him. Kicking a stone as she walked, she caught the crunching of snow under foot not far from her. Looking about she noticed the same man running. Jogging about now with his shirt tied about his hips. Frowning she sighed, “you’ll freeze you fool.” Huffing again she paused. “Cullen?” It was the Commander and by the steam rising off his bare back she could tell he’d been running for some time. Rolling her eyes, she returned to her little walk, occasionally stopping to press a mark into a tree trunk. A trick her mother taught her to ensure she never got lost in the woods. 

Cocking her head through the small brush she noticed a cabin, seemingly abandoned. With a bit of magic, she pushed the branches to the side and stepped through. All was quiet, except for the pounding of her heart in her ears. Who or what could be here? There were signs of combat, an arrow in the tree, blade marks upon the exterior wall. Closing in on the door she noticed it was still locked. Pressing two fingers to the bolt, she passed heat through till the lock broke. Pushing the door open she was surprised to see the cabin undisturbed. 

Crossing the threshold, she looked about. Healing herbs hung by a closed window, long since dried. On one wall shelves filled with bottles. In the back corner a desk and chair drew her attention, stacks of parchment and scrolls by a potion making apparatus. Settling into the chair she began to read through, skimming the pages for anything useful. “This is a regenerative potion recipe. Similar to mother’s. Interesting use of spindleweed seeds. Embrium pollen.”

“We could use that.” Cullen’s voice nearly shot her off the chair. “I apologize. You wandered from camp, several people were concerned.” 

“So they sent a templar?” Recovering quickly, she noticed his armor upon him. It didn’t add much to his overall size, he was a broad man without and it in excellent shape. Rising from her chair she picked up the parchment. “This healing potion could be very handy to aiding those in need.”

“Adan will make use of it and Leliana will be sure to supply copies to our bases and ensure those in need have use of it. We are here to help.” His eyes locked with hers and he wondered what was going through her head. “You doubt me?” 

“You are the Bastard with the Brand.” Crossing her arms tightly against her chest she shrugged. “Varric has said much about you, but I know those I saw. The fear in their eyes.”

“Those you saw?” Cullen took a step into the cabin, pausing when he noticed her flinch. “You were at Kirkwall?”

“Outside. We aided in those escaping.” There was a quiver to her lip as she spoke, and out of instinct she took several steps back. “Obedience or death. You wielded the brand like a child playing with his toys.”

“It wasn’t…” looking off to the side he drew in a sharp breath. “I was wrong. It was wrong. I…”

“Severing a mage from the Fade is a merciless death, no better than torture.” Gritting her teeth, she let out a bitter chuckle. “I’d rather die than be tranquil.” As she spoke, she’d backed herself against the wall. Cold wood pressed against her spine. “I won’t go quietly either.”

“You think…”

“It’d be so much easier to have someone that could seal rifts without asking questions, without pesky emotions. More convenient for the Bastard with the Brand.” Watching him carefully she wanted him to move forward, to take an aggressive posture, to attack. Give her every reason to ignore the strange sensation settling in against her. He was tall, broad, physically fit and worse yet attractive. Far more than she wanted to admit, and in the filtered lighting of the dim, lone cabin she could feel the swirling heat low in her stomach begin to coil. When he didn’t move, she quirked her eyebrow at him, “I’ve never seen a templar hesitate with his quarry pinned. You bastards never linger near a kill.”

“I am no longer a templar.” Turning his back, he stormed from the cabin. Kyrie pushed herself off the wall, more confused than she was before. Looking at the recipe in her hands she carefully rolled it and slipped it into her belt. Scouring the cabin for anything else useful she couldn’t get his words out of her head; ‘I am no longer a templar.’ Finding a long messenger bag under a pile of books she collected anything that could be of use. Slinging the strap over her head she huffed again. What did he mean? You can’t just not be a templar after being one. Could you? Perhaps Varric or Cassandra would know more. Varric at least would be more willing to talk and she was hopeful he would continue his story. 

Cullen stormed straight to the Chantry, stopping for no one. Slamming the back room open, he paced up and down, ignoring the pile of papers on the edge of the table. Grumbling under his breath he finally stopped to look over the map. He had to focus on something, anything besides the rage and guilt boiling under his skin. “She thinks…” Picking up the chair he threw it at the wall. As it exploded into fragments, he braced his hands against the table. Taking in several deep breaths he finally gave his head a shake. She was at Kirkwall, helped funnel mages from the Gallows. How much had she seen? How much did she hear? Pounding his fist into the table he couldn’t focus. While she was strong, tough, there was an undercurrent of fear behind her dark eyes and he knew she was afraid of him. Looking at his gloved hands he clenched his eyes tightly. There was still so much to atone for, so much suffering at his hands that made his stomach churn. But there was something he could do. Collecting himself he marched back out the door and straight to the training yard. He could turn these green recruits into a force to protect her, to protect anyone in need. It wasn’t much, but he would work until he could no longer stand. That was in his power, and with his mind set he began.

“I found it in a cabin not far from here. I hope it can help. If you need…”

“This is his notes! Maker’s great hairy balls this could stem the flow of a lot of problems. Andraste surely sent you.” Adan half hopped as he raced over to the table. “I need to make copies. I…”

“I’ve already made several. I’m going to get them over to Leliana. You hold the original.” Smiling Kyrie held up a fist full of papers before carefully returning them to a side pouch. “I also collected as much of his supplies as I could find. The bag and it’s contents are yours.” Placing the heavy shoulder bag on Adan’s desk she dipped her head. “There are plenty of elfroot plants coming up through the snow just a few yards from the gates. If you can spare some people, it might be worth the time.”

“I shall mention it to the Seeker when I have a moment. Thank you, again.” Tipping his head Adan began collecting items to craft one of the potions. Dipping out the door, she knew where to find Leliana. 

“Commander,” Cassandra briskly caught up with him. “May I have a moment of your time, in private?”

“Of course.” Cullen followed in line with Cassandra as she walked with him towards the Chantry. He knew well enough that she was going to scold him over the destruction of the chair. Keeping his mouth shut he closed the door behind him once they got to the back room. “Commander, would you care to explain this?” Pointing towards the shattered remnants of the chair, she watched him like a hawk. “I lost my temper. I apologize.”

“That doesn’t answer my question Cullen.” Lowering her voice, she got closer to him. “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

“Not enough.” He scowled. “I am fine. I will have the chair replaced.” Folding his arms across his chest he schooled his reaction. “Did you have something to ask of me?”

“I am concerned your withdrawal…”

“I am fine.” Gritting the answer out between his teeth he glared at her. “I will inform you once it is otherwise.” 

Cassandra looked him over once before motioning towards the door, “then so be it. Commander.” Snatching up a handful of papers she stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her. Letting out a long breath of air, Cullen stared at the broken chair. 'Irrational mood swings' that was one of the lengthy lists of possible symptoms he was looking at facing. Collecting some papers, he needed air. Taking them, he calmly walked down the hall and out into the mid afternoon light. 

Kyrie sat at her desk, her quill hovering over the paper. Setting it down she sighed, nothing. There was nothing she could think of. Yet her mind whirled and she wanted to write something down. But what? Standing she stretched her body, staying still for too long was never her strong point. There had to be something she could do while she waited. Something to take her mind off the trek ahead. 

Remembering the elfroot she grabbed the cloak hanging from the back of the door and a satchel. Poking her head out the door, she grumbled at the sinking sun. She’d have an hour maybe two before the valley was bathed in darkness. More than enough time to pick some of the leafy greens. Strolling down the path she tugged the hood up about her face, not wanting to speak to anyone. Too many admirers, not enough patience.

Heading out the gate she followed the marks upon the trees. Finding a patch thick with the leafy greens she set to work. 

Cullen could feel the headache swelling, straight between his eyes to the point he was nearly seeing double. “That’s enough for today. Tomorrow be ready for your first lesson on dull steel.” Waving his hand, the group of recruits quickly shuffled off. Eager to eat and relax before being put through more of his drills. Pinching the bridge of his nose he plodded off to his tent. Throwing wide the flap, he stepped inside. Piece by careful piece he removed his armor, placing it with schooled practice upon the rack by his cot. Tomorrow the Herald was set to leave, to Val Royeux with Cassandra, Solus, Varric and her new companion Warden Blackwall in tow. He had requested to go himself but Leliana and Cassandra overruled him. There was work to do here, training to be done and they could ill afford him to step away. Plus, diplomacy was not his strong suit. Last thing they needed was a fight before the few Chantry elders and the Orlesian’s. Rumors would spread throughout Thedas in a heartbeat. Whether he liked it or not he had to admit his duty was bound in Haven. At least for the time being. 

Settling down to his small writing table he picked up the letters laid out in a neat pile. There was still so much that required his effort. But his vision was beginning to blur. Growling under his breath he decided to turn in early. Just as he was about to undress there was a panicked voice at his tent. “Commander! The Herald is missing!” 

“I am sure she…”

“No one has seen her. Ser Ambassador Josephine is concerned.”

“I shall take a look for her. Keep your voice down and go back to your lady.” Retying his pants, he pulled his mantle over his shoulders. Stepping back out into the night air he mumbled a soft curse before heading to her cabin. Sure enough, she wasn’t inside. Her cloak was missing and a large satchel. Remembering seeing her out in the woods earlier he decided to start there. 

Lifting her bag up she smiled, “this should help Adan get some of those new potions going.” Tying off the top she slung it back over her shoulder. It was dark now, something that didn’t phase her. Picking up a dead stick she pushed a little magic through it, setting the end on fire. Following her footsteps, she barely caught the sound of twigs snapping. Pausing she looked about. Through the inky darkness she couldn’t see much, and her torch was nearly half burnt up. “Herald!” Cullen’s voice came from not far ahead of her. “Great.” Sighing heavily, she moved towards it, hoping the glow of the torch would illuminate her enough that no one launched an arrow her way. 

“There you are. It’s late and the Ambassador was concerned. She sent for you and could not find you.” Cullen crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the icy night air begin to pierce his thick mantle. “It is going to be a cold night. Have you eaten?” 

Staring dumfounded Kyrie blinked several times before collecting herself. “I’m fine. I have elfroot for Adan.” Pointing to her bag she let out a chuckle. “The cold doesn’t bother me. I did mention I am a pyromancer. Keeping warm isn’t a concern for me.” Unsure what to expect from him she pulled the bag over her shoulder. “It is late. We travel come dawn. Good night. Commander.” Going to pass him her grip intensified upon the leather strap. “Herald.” His voice was calm, devoid of the usual harsh tone of his position. “Be careful. The Chantry does not recognize the Inquisition, nor does it approve of you and your title. Endeavor to leave Val Royeux standing as it was, please.” How he uttered that last word, so soft and nearly desperate it tugged at her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. “I shall try, Commander. Good night.”

Cullen waited till her footsteps faded into the ambient noise of the night. She was clearly still leery of him and his intentions that much he could pen down. “What happened to you?” She’d written a brief summary of her life out for them. Something to prevent any political pitfalls. Three sheets of paper. Her whole existence on three sheets of paper, in her own hand. He’d poured over them, read them till they were nearly memory. 

Kyrie Trevelyan was born to a mage mother. She’d escaped the Circle pregnant with her. The child of a Circle mage and templar. Gifted with magic later in life she began learning to master her skills at the age of thirteen. Adept at healing and fire her mother taught her with old tomes smuggled as she fled. No information was known about her father. His name wasn’t mentioned in the pages, nor what became of him. They moved from small village to small village whenever her mother got wind of templar presence in the area. This happened till they appeared outside Kirkwall. Her mother rooted them down, offering to aid Anders in funneling out mages. After the fall of the Chantry she even helped Anders escape, unaware of his role in the explosion. Several times Kyrie had told her mother to run, that now was the time to flee before the templars pursued those they aided. She didn’t want to abandon them, not when the need was so high. A few months after trouble came, a few templars that seemed different to her. Their eyes glowed a faint red and they gave off a feeling of malice. Kyrie hid in the root cellar while her mother dealt with them. That was when her mother died. 

Several time he read it over looking for the name of the templar, the man that struck her mother down without thought or provocation. No where in the letters was his name mentioned. Remembering that time he knew how many came through. From Fereldan to Starkhaven men and women came to help dig out the bodies, retrieve anything they could from the rubble and aid the people of the city. When he lost his faith. Laying the pages down he pinched the bridge of his nose, could he have known the man? So much chaos and confusion within the ranks hit the moment Meredith was struck down. Many sided with him but few turned. Those few were set to bring justice to any mage they came across. Yet there was nothing he could do. Too mired in the horrors of the explosion, the death, rubble and bandits that came to loot. He couldn’t commit resources to stopping those wayward templars that had gone past the city walls. 

Having returned to his tent he pushed his chair back and rose, stretching his back, hearing a satisfying pop as the air released from between his vertebrae. Going over the work that needed to be dealt with in the morning he decided it was best to try to get some rest while he could. Stripping down to his trousers he pulled a loose tunic over his head and eased into bed. She left first thing in the morning and he knew Leliana, Josephine and himself would be eagerly awaiting word upon their arrival. With a soft prayer to the Maker to watch over her and those members that travelled with her, he closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep. 

Sleep didn’t come nearly as easily for Kyrie. Sorting through the bag of elfroot upon her desk her mind kept going back to Cullen’s appearance. In a huff she tossed the last of her elfroot into the small pot. “Blasted templar. Maker really.” Heating the pot over her palm she continued to grumble. “Probably sent after me like some lord chasing his mabari. I am no man’s bitch.” Watching as the flames wrapped around the pot she huffed. “Cool down Kyrie. You’ll burn the oil.” Drawing in a deep breath she focused on the pot, cooling it back to room temperature before placing it on the desk. Filling a bottle with the deep green liquid she nodded, “good to have you back. I’ll have to give a copy of you to Adan. He seems to know what he’s doing. For the most part.” Grinning she set the bottle into her pouch before hanging it up. “Mom, I don’t make it as well as you do. Its just not the same.” Leaning back in her chair she could see the stars dancing in the evening sky. “Looks like good weather for our trip tomorrow. I hope I’m doing this right Mom.” Finishing the last of the things she wanted to do she cleaned up her little mess and curled up in bed. Morning would come too early and they would begin their trek towards Val Royeux. 

Sure enough, morning came upon her far sooner than she wanted. Groggy and in no mood for anything she dressed and wrapped her pouch around her waist. Ignoring everyone and everything she followed behind Cassandra as they started their march to Val Royeux. It wasn’t the longest journey, nor the furthest she’d travelled in a single day but when they finally stopped at the small inn just a few miles away she was thankful for the hot bath and warm food. By the next morning she was feeling more optimistic despite the constant disinterest of their elven companion. Solas seemed more a literalist leaning towards pessimism. Cassandra seemed no brighter herself as she went over how Kyrie needed to stay close to her and keep her head down if fights break out. Varric on the other hand seemed to have a joke and tale for every quip. Something that Kyrie was beginning to find more and more endearing about the dwarven man. He wasn’t like any dwarf she’d ever met. Cheery, funny and most importantly she mused his beard much have died and landed upon his chest, which he was in the habit of keeping his jacket open for all to see. This brought him into a near fit of laughter and from that moment forward Kyrie decided Varric was her friend, and that come whatever lied ahead she valued his input above all.

Approaching the looming white gates to the city Kyrie instantly felt something off, a strange crawling dread that itched up her spine. “I don’t like this.” Pausing she looked over at Varric. “Something isn’t right.”

“Walking into a looming fortress of a city that bows to the Chantry might have something to do with that Embers.” Taking her hand, he smiled. “We have your back and your front, and your sides. Just keep your head up and walk like you own this place. They like that sorta ballsy shit.” 

Nodding she swallowed her fear only to have it stoked as a messenger wearing Inquisition robes came rushing out of the gate. “My… Lady…” clasping her fist to her chest she bent over and drew in a few deep breathes quickly. “I have word. The templars have arrived from the White Spire, summoned by the remaining clerics.”

“Why?” Cassandra’s voice betrayed the subtle hint of rage and fear as Kyrie’s blood ran cold. Templars. Not one, not two, but those who held the Spire. The final bastion of the templars, here. While she could handle one or two, maybe three on her own, an entire bastion could easily blanket the entire town in spell cancelling energy. Rendering her useless and vulnerable. “They have come to stop the menacing threat of the Inquisition ma’am. To save the people.” 

“Save the people!” Now the subtly was gone and Kyrie could feel the anger rolling off Cassandra’s shoulders. Trying her best not to show the growing fear she followed the enraged Seeker into the heart of the city. 

Those who stood chatting in their native tongue paused as she passed by, in awe some and others in fear. A few raced past her, heading to their homes or shops to close up and hide. “Not good Seeker.” Varric mumbled as he kept tight to Kyrie. “They think we’re the bad guys. I can tell this isn’t going to end well.”

“They must see reason Varric.” Cassandra grit her teeth under her breath as she tightened her hand upon her sheathed weapon. “Stay close.” Kyrie followed in, close as she felt comfortable without appearing too dependant on the Seeker. Arriving in the center court things unfolded quickly.


	4. Let the Flames Begin

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen exhaled loudly as he read over the parchment. “Cassandra states that upon their arrival to Val Royeux your agent informed them of the events unfolding inside the city. What few Clerics remaining not loyal to our cause attempted to sway the templars to their side. It ended in quite a show of force before the Lord Seeker himself swore to abandon the Chantry and left. He referred to the Inquisition as bratty upstarts before tromping off. Cassandra is both confused and angry. It seems she was not expecting the Lord Seeker to behave in such a manner. I have never met the man, but his actions concern me.” Tossing the letter towards Leliana he huffed again. “Apparently our Herald said all the right words and managed to garner quite the response from the crowd. It seems we’ll have an influx of recruits and pilgrims.” Grumbling the last word, he leaned back, watching as Leliana and Josephine both read over the paper. There was a minor sense of relief knowing she’d managed to quell the angry crowd and curtail most of the hurt felt emotions rushing through the on lookers. But more importantly still it seemed she’d avoided the ire of the templars and a particularly strange Lord Seeker. 

“You missed the second and third letter Commander,” Leliana smirked wide as she held them out to him, a wicked twinkle in her eye. “You will not be happy with either.”

“I shall be the judge of that.” Snatching them, he had to read it over twice. “The Grand Enchanter herself, in Val Royeux?! This makes no sense.”

“It gets better Commander,” producing the second letter for him she clasped her hands behind her back. “It seems we have an interested party.” Nodding towards Josephine, Leliana continued. “It is most discerning.”

Rapidly taking the page he read it through, “wh…” Stopping he read it once more. “But according to Seeker Cassandra’s letter the Lord Seeker denounced the Inquisition. Not only did he say such words he did so before a massive crowd and a crumpled cleric. This… this makes no sense.” Rubbing the back of his neck he tossed the paper down upon the table. “What is his angle?”

“No word has come from the Spire outside of this letter. I have sent several and heard nothing back. I believe it is best to entertain the Grand Enchanter in Redcliffe. See what she wishes to offer. If that fails to bare fruit, we can entertain the Lord Seeker. But I do not believe the Lord Seeker.” 

He could feel Leliana’s eyes on him as he stood, arms folded tight against his chest, mulling over the latest information. Everything contrasted and the Chantry was a mess. Birds flew in nearly every hour with more word of those turning away from the Chantry and offering aid to the Inquisition. What could this mean for their fledgling order? What could this mean for Kyrie? “Cassandra’s group shall be arriving before nightfall. It would be best to have things prepared for when they get here.” Josephine broke the hanging silence as she tapped some papers on the table. “We still have much to discuss and plans to form for Cassandra once she gets back. You know she will want to dive immediately into it.”

“Of course. We should all eat and be prepared once she does. We have at least half a day. Let’s return to the war room before nightfall. I’ll have a messenger send her here once she arrives.” Leliana paused catching both parties as they flinched. “We should invite the Herald. She has been key to much of the recent success.” 

“Agreed.” Josephine nodded, her eyes piercing as she kept focus on Cullen. “Commander?”

“Yes. Agreed.” Nodding he collected a few papers and turned. “Before nightfall. Maker watch over us.” Pushing through the doors out into the open air of the mid morning sun he closed his eyes for a brief moment, remembering her interaction with Chancellor Roderick before her departure. He’d been full of spite, spewing forth his garbage to those willing to hear, inciting potential riots. All while several mages and templars traded verbal barbs. Had he not moved faster there would have been blood shed, that much he was aware of. “We are all part of the Inquisition. Whatever we were before no longer exists. Now, back to your duties.” 

She’d seen his motion, the speed and authority as he shoved back the templar, finger in the face of the older mage. Yet he did not reach for his weapon, nor did he chide only the one side. Kyrie was still thinking about it as they walked back from Val Royeux. Damn the templars and their foolish duty, clinging to the dying ideal that they and they alone could protect Thedas. From mages. Yet the image of Cullen, the strength in his words, the sureness of his motions, what did it mean? Roderick seemed unphased by Cullen’s motions and words. In fact, she would bet he was partially pleased with the display, but not with the resolutions. Even after as Cullen smirked and called the ruddy man toothless Roderick stood defiant. But there was a mirth to Cullen’s voice when he slung the insult at the angry cleric. Her reply to dealing with the Chantry slug brought a wolfish grin to Cullen’s lips, if only for a moment before Roderick began puffing and huffing. “What would you have us do with him?”

“I’d set his coats ablaze and send him out the gates.” She spoke it flat, her eyes glued to Roderick’s watching and waiting for the moment his terror swept over him. When his eyes glossed, she enjoyed the rush of power that surged through her. He knew well enough she wasn’t lying and that there was at least a fifty percent chance she could do it and no one would bawk. Sputtering she ignored him, turning her back completely towards him and addressing Cullen. “What would you see done, Commander?”

“Nothing. He’s toothless.” She watched his eyes glued to the man behind her, Cullen’s hand subtly looped around the hilt of his sword, hidden in the crook of his crossed arms. “Perhaps he’ll set himself on fire, with his words.” Glancing back, she let out a playful chuckle. “But I must attend to putting the ones he set out. Irony really. If Andraste sent me, she has a sense of humor. Doesn’t she Chancellor.” Hanging the man’s title out in a baited tempt earned her a snort. “I see. Good day then Chancellor. May the Lady guide you. Commander.” 

She enjoyed that display of power, enjoyed the humming rush of energy as Roderick cowered and Cullen seemed to approve. Or was she wanting him too? Shaking that thought from her mind she had to keep focused. Templars. Lots of them, crusading on a bloody journey to wipe her kind from Thedas. That wasn’t going to do, and then there was Grand Enchanter Fiona. How in the depths of the Deep Roads did that woman manage to appear in Val Royeux? While it was subtle, something that no one else would have picked up on, she’d felt it. A strange energy around the elven woman. Something that made her scarred hands tingle, the aged and healed burnt skin felt icy. Kyrie had kept that to herself, unsure of what it was or of what use it would be. As Varric spun his tales, Solas mumbled on about the glories of the Fade, Kyrie kept her focus on the Seeker. She had seemed stunned at the entire event. First at the word they were the villians, then at the Lord Seeker’s blatant grab for power and finally the appearance of the rebel mage queen. When they arrived at the small inn meant to house them for the night, Cassandra barricaded herself into her room, only appearing to deliver a letter to a waiting Inquisition messenger with raven. 

Kyrie spent time just listening to Varric. The man was insatiable. Talking until his cup ran dry. Kyrie wanted to hear it all, every last word. In the morning on the road back he’d finished just at the part where Hawke’s brother Carver joined the templars. “No!”

“Ya, Junior didn’t take it well when we left him to head to the Deep Roads. But it was better than him ending up dead. Was a tough journey back.” His eyes cast down at the ground, a sense of guilt easily present as his shoulder’s slumped forward. “Curly took good care of him. Made sure Meredith never really paid much attention to him.”

“Why?” Kyrie couldn’t understand as they headed up the path towards Haven. “Meredith was a special kind of crazy. Applying an iron grip on the mages only had them slipping through her fingers faster. Curly saw it. I remember that. He told it to Hawke one night. That Meredith was pushing but there was only so much he would do, and he wouldn’t do that.”

“That?”

“Blondie thought the templars were devising a plan to make all mages tranquil. Come up with excuses and brand them. One by one. We found some papers on a templar, but apparently Meredith turned the idea down. Don’t even know if Curly knew about the idea.” Shrugging Varric straightened up. “He was an ass, but he did the right thing Embers. He tried.”

“Tried.” Shaking her head, she huffed. “I saw those poor souls fleeing Kirkwall. Anders sent them through us. Each one had the same story Varric. The Bastard with the Brand. The Knight-Captain with a taste for tranquils.”

“You believe it?” Varric smirked as he chuckled. “Curly is married to his work and his pain. Nothing more, nothing less. Sounds like you might have the wrong guy.” Stuffing his hand into his pocket Varric began to pull something out when he stopped. “You know what Ember, why don’t you tell me your story.”

“Next road trip. There’s a lot to talk about.” Chuckling she caught sight of the messenger rushing towards Cassandra. “Looks like business as usual.” 

“Not so much,” Varric dropped his voice and took a swift step closer to Kyrie. “Something isn’t right. See how the messenger’s hands are shaking. It’s bad news and they’re expecting the Seeker to be upset.” Lilting his head towards the two as they spoke Kyrie spotted the subtle hint of nervous energy from the scout. “I see it.” 

“Good eyes.” Nudging her he shook his head, “buy you a pint later tonight. I think you’re about to be busy.” Peeling off he trudged past the two ignoring the low whine that came from Kyrie. 

“Herald.” Cassandra turned sharply on her heel and waved Kyrie to follow. For some reason Kyrie didn’t even think about it, she just stepped in line with the Seeker. In silence the two marched to the Chantry, while messengers took the bags and packs from both women. “They will repair your gear, wash your linens and place them back in your room.” Cassandra tried to reassure her as they honed in on the room at the back of the large steepled building. 

Allowing Cassandra to enter first Kyrie kept her back to the wall, seeing once again the room was full. Paying attention as the four began to instantly chatter she wondered why she was even in the room at all, until the defining moment. “Herald, we cannot agree. With you being the face of the Inquisition, we want your opinion on the matter.”

“I wish to seek out the Grand Enchanter. If purely to resolve some questions I have.” Keeping her eyes glued on Cullen she was expecting it. Wanting it. Needing a reason to see him as the monster they claimed he was. “Understood, Herald. When did you wish to depart?” His words were plain, no emotion tagged to them, just a smooth baritone that set her at ease. “I think my companions need a day to rest perhaps two. If that is alright with everyone? I would love a chance to bathe properly.” Turning her head towards Josephine she held her smile. “Please tell there is a bath of some kind. I can heat the water myself.” 

“Yes, we can have a tub brought to your quarters and filled. Is there anything else you require?” Josephine held her gaze as her quill bobbed and floated over the paper on her board. “No that will be all. I can attend to anything else I require myself. Thank you.” Not wanting to be rude and uncomfortable with the idea that she was quasi in control, she took a half step back towards the door. “If that is all…”

“Yes, thank you.” Cassandra nodded sharply before turning back to the group and beginning discussing the events of Val Royeux. Something Kyrie had little interest in reliving. It was a journey. With an ending she thought everyone should have seen coming. After all the Chantry had leashed the templars to them no differently than the mages. One leash to control the beast that looked over the vermin. That was what her mother told her. She could almost see the sadness in her eyes now as she paused outside of the war room. “Beasts,” snorting she wrapped her arms about herself and marched towards the tavern. Josephine would probably have the tub sent while she filled her belly. 

Cullen paced up and down the side of the table as they discussed their plans to get into Redcliffe. He’d managed to keep calm and hold his emotions in check around her. After the moment in the cabin he was leery around her. ‘Bastard with the Brand,’ he didn’t want to be that man. Not again. Meredith had applied it, brutally and one time he believed it. Believed in how it helped keep control, keep things from becoming an abomination fueled nightmare. Instead, it became the opposite. Feeling the pressure begin to build up between his eyes he pinched at his bridge. “Is everything alright, Commander?” 

“Yes, Cassandra. Just a mild headache. Is there anything else we need to discuss? I need to return to the soldiers. Training should be our priority.” Easing his arm upon the sheath of his sword he sighed, “if the Herald encounters issues in Redcliffe, we…”

“Cannot send anyone.” Josephine meekly spoke. “We are seen as an Orlesian order, storming a Fereldan city would more than likely become a political nightmare. The Herald and her companions are small in number and less likely to draw attention.” Placing her writing board on the table she shook her head, “I don’t foresee a major issue. She’s simply speaking to the Grand Enchanter. Fiona has always been known to be level headed and wise. Kyrie should be returning to us with good news within the week. Nothing to be concerned about Commander.” 

“Nothing? I can come up with at least half a dozen things that could go wrong, Ambassador. The issue is; when. We know it cannot be that simple. It rarely is.” Pausing he stared down at the map. It was a straight enough route through the Hinterlands to Redcliffe Village. Nearly ten years since the blight they’d managed to rebuild only to have the mage and templar conflict erase half of it. King Alistair had been kind to the rebel mages, allowing them the use of Redcliffe while the Conclave was set to take place. Now, it was a war zone. Only the village itself and the castle seemed untouched by the surrounding nightmare. Were she to go into that castle… It was something he really didn’t want to think about. “The hours of daylight are waning. We can reconvene once I finish with the daily drills.” With a sharp nod of his head he pushed himself back from the table and marched out the door. 

Kyrie was giggling loudly as she finished the third pint of ale. Varric was off telling another of his impossible tales, with a flourish that made them so believable. She’d been with him since she’d left the Chantry earlier, all the while buying the stout man drink after drink. “Dwarves have a natural ability to hold their ale, Embers.” Raising his glass to her again he drew in a long swig before settling back into his chair. “Maybe you best call it a night. By the sound of things, we’ll be heading out into the wilderness sooner than I’d like.”

“You’d be more than content to live like a King on a cushy throne. Being served ale and warm stew daily. All while you spin your wonderful tales.” Giggling through her words she drained the last of her tankard. “And I would gladly be one of them.”

“Its official Embers, you’ve had enough for tonight.” Rising from his seat he came around to her side. “Come on. Ruffles should have your bath ready for you by now. Then you can get a decent sleep before we go.”

“Spoil sport.” Kyrie stuck her tongue out at him, earning her a chortle as he helped steady her. Staggering out of the tavern, Varric awkwardly helped the tipsy Kyrie down the path to her cabin. Once she was inside, Varric bid her goodnight and left her alone. A few feet from the bed was a thick looking oak soaking tub. “Hello, you beautiful thing you,” Kyrie smiled seeing the shimmer of the waters edge just a few inches from the lip. Wavering back and forth she managed to wiggle out of her clothes and summon enough energy to heat the water. Settling into the tub, she continued to pour her mana until it was hot enough for her liking. 

Steam billowed around her as she playfully sung a song. One she’d heard but couldn’t for the life of her remember where or from who. Enjoying the soak, she relaxed, carefully washing and scrubbing before eventually deciding to get out. Pushing the magic harder into the water the tub evaporated into a cloud of steam, warming the room with a pleasant bloom of heat. Nearly instantly she was dry and comfortable. Dressing into the clean under clothes she pushed the window open. “Mom, I have no idea if what I’m doing is right. I could really use a sign from you. Anything really.” Leaning upon the ledge she gazed out into the waning light of evening. Nearly ready to abandon hope she caught sight of the small red bird as it flew into the tree directly across from her. Slowly, a grin spread over her lips. “Thanks mom.” As she uttered the words the bird let out a twitter before bobbing it’s head and flying off. 

There was an old wives’ tale her mother had told her, long ago. When a red bird comes to visit your home, it is the spirit of a loved one come back to bless those left behind. With a tear in her eye she calmly finished dressing and decided a drink was what she needed. Wrapping the thick cloak hanging on the door about her she pulled it tightly about her neck and face. Walking into the evening she went straight to the tavern, the coin purse at her side heavy. There was a good chance Varric would be sitting in his usual corner, indulging the crowd in another rendition of a rousing story about the Champion. As she drew closer, she could smell the thick perfume of honey sweetened pig. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered as she walked through the door. 

Varric’s corner was surprisingly empty. Sighing heavily, she went over to Fissa and ordered her meal, placing a hand full of coin on the counter. “Take a seat dear, I’ll bring it to you.” Fissa smiled as she swiped the coin into her pocket. Nodding her reply, Kyrie went to Varric’s corner and settled into a chair. With her hood up she’d hoped to avoid people, just wanting to eat her meal and head to bed. 

Keeping to herself she watched the people, listening in to the rising din of chatter and catching up on the local gossip. Gossip gave a lot of information, some useful, some not, but almost always interesting. When the meal and drink arrived, she dined slowly, soaking in the random bits of noise spilling from the crowd. Men complaining about how the Commander pushed them too hard, demanding they train in full gear, and have them practicing with full steel by the end of the morrow. Snickering to herself she sipped away, listening to another woman go on and on about how attractive the new mercenary band was. Especially their leader, some Iron Bull character. Another man went on about the Warden Blackwall, she barely contained the laugh that bubbled up in her throat. It was when someone began to mention the Orlesian fixation with the Commander that she rolled her eyes. “Bah, templars.” Grumbling she finished the ale and the last few bites of her meal. Sitting for a few moments more she noticed him walk in, head straight for Fissa and then disappear back out the door. ‘He doesn’t dine in the tavern?’ Curious she watched as Fissa loaded a tray. Tossing some silver upon the table she rose and quietly followed behind her, stay a ways back as they walked towards the row of tents by the training yard. 

Fissa stopped by the first tent and whistled. A few seconds passed before the tent flap opened and a pair of thick, strong, bare arms took the tray. Fissa waited a moment more and the same arm reached out and handed her a small purse, heavy with coin. Realizing she was exposed to the elements and that Fissa would be walking back up the path she dove behind a small crop of shrubs. Letting Fissa pass, she waited another moment more before popping out. Curiosity teased at her. Why did he take his meals alone, in a tent when there was a warm tavern? One that clearly housed a mix of people, some probably more than willing to stroke his ego. Several more wishing to stroke something more personal. Cringing at the thought she decided it would be best to return to her cabin. Travel would be soon and there was no way of telling what there would be. As she walked towards the tents, her feet carrying her further than her mind, she heard him. Low and serious as he prayed. “Maker please, watch over Kyrie. Keep her safe from harm. Were it in your plan to send me in her place, I would gladly take it.” Pausing dead in her tracks she was stunned. A templar, praying for a mage. Praying for the ability to take her place. Unsure of what to say or do, she burst into a full run, straight to her cabin.


	5. Boiling Rage

Travel was as expected. Arriving at Redcliffe led to a strange encounter with a twisting rift. One that seemed to warp the time about it. Things became no less weird as they made their way to the tavern. Where no one expected them. Cassandra was in a huff as she defended Kyrie, backing her that they had met the Grand Enchanter in Val Royeux. Again, Kyrie felt a strange energy roll off Fiona. After more questions than answers Kyrie was left stunned as she looked at the paper in her hand, “meet me at the Chantry.” 

“Well if that doesn’t scream trap, I don’t know what does.” Varric shook his head, his usual mirth vacant from his voice. “Be careful Embers, this whole thing stinks.”

“I know, but something tells me that I need to go. Call it a gut instinct.”

“The Commander may have words about this,” Blackwall shrugged. “But you have my sword and shield at the ready. Let’s meet this trap head on.”

Catching a similar look from Cassandra, Kyrie nodded, “then we go. Best to do it now and be done with it.” Keeping her voice low she followed the way out of the tavern, only stopping to speak to a few people. Some supporting the Inquisition and others interested in their own self-preservation. Once outside, Cassandra led them to the Chantry. It wasn’t hard to find. All Chantry buildings seemed to be built in the center of town, and ornately decorated with a vibrant red banner. Approaching the door Kyrie caught the sound of a struggle coming from within. “Hurry!” Half kicking the door open, Cassandra burst into the room to see a rift above the pulpit. Before it a mage struggling against a small group of shades as they poured from the shimmering scar. 

She didn’t hesitate. Pushing past the two warriors she cast out a bubble of flame to protect the man from the attacks coming behind him, just as he finished slamming his staff into the shade in front of him. “Thanks,” he puffed as he held his own barrier, allowing the flame to erode the few remaining creatures. Nodding her reply she held her left hand high and let it seal the tear. “You’re safe now, but… I was expecting Felix.”

“Ah yes, he’ll be here shortly.” Dusting off his pants and cloak the man introduced himself. “Dorian Pavus.” She caught the subtle smoothness to his voice, buttery rich as he spoke, coupled by the ease of his manner. Listening intently, she followed along with his explanation as Cassandra grumbled and Varric seemed stunned. Blackwall didn’t utter a sound, only keeping his hand firmly upon the hilt of his blade. When Dorian came to the end of his story, Kyrie nodded, “then we need to make this right.”

“At the least. I can’t say why Alexius is doing what he’d doing but having an army of indentured mages to a Tevinter Magister on the back step of the Fereldan King’s porch. Well, one can easily surmount it isn’t good.” 

“Agreed.” Kyrie smiled. “And seeing as you wish to help, I’d be happy to take it.” 

“I can’t stay here. If Alexius sees me, he may try something. I…”

“Come to Haven.” She cut to the point, a wide grin upon her lips. “We can better formulate a plan there. Less cloak and dagger. At the least no demons.”

“Yet. If Alexius continues to mess with things, who knows. Haven. I’ll head there now. With you, if you are leaving?” There was a hint of loneliness in the man’s voice and Kyrie instantly caught it. “Of course. I wish to hear everything along the way. There is still plenty of light, we can make it to the Cross Roads and make camp for the evening. From there, we can head straight to Haven in the morning.” 

Cullen threw the knife into the dummy as he let out a long howling grunt. Magister, two of them. One apparently on their side, the other up to some nefarious situation. They’d received the letter from Cassandra less than an hour ago, and a raven from the Magister ten minutes ago. He didn’t want to think about it. The logistics of the entire situation made his stomach flop. To go inside Redcliffe castle was a prison at the best, a suicide mission at the worst. What made it harder, was knowing it was her call. Her choice and there was nothing he could do to talk her out of it. 

Picking up another knife, he hurled it with the same practiced control and precision as before. It sunk it to the hilt, a half inch away from the other dagger, right between the dummy’s eyes. Even with the satisfaction that his skills were still sharp, he couldn’t quell the burning rage bubble up through him. This wasn’t right and there was no way for him to guarantee her safety. Reaching for another knife he growled louder; empty. Storming towards the training yard and the men clanging away he stood cross armed as he picked apart those failing his seemingly simple task. They weren’t ready. Not even a little and soon she would trudge head first into danger. They needed to be ready, there was no time for nice gestures and kind words. He’d work them till they got it, and then till they perfected it. 

Kyrie couldn’t stop asking questions and Dorian was more than happy to answer each one, in his grandiose fashion. Something Varric also found amusing as he listened in, taking mental notes as they went. Cassandra was leery of the strange man for the first leg of their journey but by the end she came to trust Dorian. Even if she found him slightly self-indulged. Blackwall took Kyrie aside at one point and cautioned her on the man. “We know very little about him, and we know his ex-employer is up to no good. Can we truly trust this isn’t some elaborate scheme?”

“Blackwall,” placing her hand on his she sighed. “I know you have a hard time with him, he is completely different to you. But I have a good feeling about him. He has no reason to lie. He’s gone against his own country man to warn us. Had he not mentioned a word we would be walking into an ambush. Unprepared, mind you. Have a little faith.” 

“Faith, my lady is one thing.” Taking her hand in his Blackwall seemed to soften. “Reality can be altogether different. I simply wish to keep you safe. As we all do.” 

“Safe. That seems like such a foreign word in the world I now live in.” Her face fell and instantly she regretted the show of emotion. “But there is work to do and…”

“My lady,” his hand slipped around her waist. “If there is anything, I can do for you, do not hesitate to ask.” Warmth bloomed across her cheeks as she allowed him to wrap her up in an embrace. He was thick, sturdy and strong. Years of wielding a sword and shield building his body into a fortress of protection. Closing her eyes, she took a moment to let the world melt away, “it can all be too much at times. I appreciate your kindness.” Breathing in deeply she felt anchored. Something she’d been lacking since her mother passed. “We should keep moving. I’m sure they are worried for our return.”

“As you wish, my lady.” With a warm smile upon his lips he eased her back out of his arms and collected his gear. “We should make it back just before night fall.”

Pain settled in. Low and dull, throbbed between his eyes as the light fell from the sky. Having dismissed the recruits, he was now left with nothing to occupy his mind outside of reports. Scouts sending in information that he was loath to go over. There was time set aside for reading in the evening, when no one needed him, and his nightmares fueled his sleeplessness. It was easy to lay upon the cot and read until he could no longer keep his eyes open or grip the paper. Now, he was going to have to ask Adan for a potion, or something just to be able to make it through the meeting in the war room. Leliana wanted to meet after sun set. Something about her scouts and something else he couldn’t recall. Grumbling about his loss of memory he stepped into his tent. The tips of his fingers had begun to freeze, and he knew he had a pair of thicker, lined gloves by his bed. As his hands trembled, he collected them and struggled to pull them on. Nearly ready to throw a fit, the horn blasted signalling the return of the Herald and her people. Part of him wanted to be excited, wanted to be thankful that she was back and safe. But he knew better. She’s be tossed into the depths of danger in no time. Focusing hard he tugged his gloves on, ignored the traffic heading to the gates and marched to the war room. Cassandra would bring her there, no doubt about it. 

When her foot crossed the threshold of the gates, she felt a calm wash over her. A sense that she was safe and home. Unsure how to take the sensation she wrapped her arms around herself and continued her march towards the Chantry, Cassandra leading the way. Best to get it over with now. Get through whatever was going to be discussed. She had no interest in hearing any of it. With everything Dorian had said and the feeling in her gut she knew well enough walking away wasn’t a possibility. There were children within the ranks of the mages, some still suckling from their mothers. She couldn’t abandon them now. Squaring her shoulders back, she held her breath when she opened the door and walked into the room. “I won’t leave them.” Tossing the words out she glanced about the room. “You cannot convince me otherwise.” Seeing no one move she felt heat crawl up each vertebra. “There are…”

“Many things we must taking into consideration.” Cullen was calm, surprisingly so since the tension in the room could be cut with a blade. “Leliana, there is…”

“One way into and out of the Castle that the Magister might not have taken into consideration.” Leliana grinned as she pulled a scroll from her pouch. “Back when the Hero of Fereldan saved the village of Redcliffe from the young arl, we entered the keep from a secret passage. Located underneath the old windmill. I have had a map drawn up.”

“While that idea gets her in, it isn’t large enough to march troops through.” Looking over the map Cullen’s scowl deepened. “It would take time to get men in place. I can’t…”

“I can help.” Pushing through the door in a flourish, Dorian waved off the messenger chasing him. “Dorian Pavus, and I can get them in. Alexius will have laid down magical traps, ensuring any attempts would be caught. I can deactivate them for you.”

Kyrie barely managed to shutter the smirk away as she watched the crease growing across Cullen’s forehead. Licking her lips, she cut the entire room off. “Perfect. Then we save the mages. When can we make preparations? I wish to leave as soon as possible.”

“Very well, but I must make it clear. This Magister wishes you dead, and by my guess at any cost. Please, be extra cautious in your actions and stall as long as you can. We’ll need as much time as possible to get men in place.” Josephine bowed her head as she reached for another sheet of paper. “Commander?”

“While I continue to disagree with this position, and choice, I stand by the Herald. We will ensure her safety.” Locking eyes with Kyrie his tone changed. “No matter what, you will be safe.” Within his eyes should could feel the honesty, the truth and conviction in his words. They meant more, were said to mean more than their original purpose. It was a promise, one she felt he’d personally carry out if need be. More than willingly, it was an invitation to ask him. Make him. Pausing she lost all track of thought, all capability to think of a single thing. Feeling the warmth spread to her cheeks she moved, pushing past Dorian and Leliana as she raced out the door. 

Cullen was trapped between Leliana and Josephine but the urge to chase after her overruled any logical concerns. Placing a careful hand upon Josephine’s shoulder he was surprised when she quickly made way for him. “Go.” She nodded as she turned to Leliana and Dorian carrying on with the fine details of the castle layout. 

Rushing into the Chantry hall he just saw her walk out the double doors. Grumbling under his breath he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. She hated him, or at least was afraid of him. Chasing her wasn’t going to change that. Would it? Squaring his shoulders, he took a solid step forward before his foot steps fell back into his nature rhythm. Trying to collect his thoughts he wasn’t even sure what to say, or how he was going to say it. 

Bursting into the falling light of day he squinted as he tried to see where she’d ran to, only to nearly bull over Varric. “Don’t do it Curly. You’ve got that look on your face.”

“And what look would that be Varric?” He stated it flatly as he scanned over the stout man, hoping to find some direction as to where Kyrie could have gone. “She needs time. You and she are a lot a like. In a lot of ways.” Chuckling Varric motioned for Cullen to follow. “Come on Curly, let me buy you a pint.” 

Biting his tongue, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to say and a large part of him struggled against himself. “Fine.” Huffing it out he followed easily in step with the stout man. Grumbling under his breath he didn’t really want to talk to Varric. The dwarf had a way of talking in circles, leaving him with as many questions as he had to begin with and occasionally a few new ones. 

Sliding into a chair in the tavern, back against the corner he crossed his arms and waited. All the time Varric sweet talked the bar maid. After their little chit chat Varric finally leaned in and gave his direct attention to him. “You terrify her Curly, probably not the best thing when you’re tasked with keeping her alive.” Smirking at the sudden stunned look on Cullen’s face Varric continued. “She’s been extremely interested in you. Asking about all the things going on in the Gallows. Very interested.”

“Interested? Varric speak plain.” Cullen half growled as he reached for the pint placed before him. “Curly come on now, interested. She needs to know where your head is. Where your heart is.” Cullen had to work hard to swallow down the honey sweetened ale before he spat it at the man. Managing to keep a straight face he waited to hear more. When Varric paused a moment longer than he’d like Cullen huffed loudly. “My heart? Varric you are speaking in riddles and I have no patience for this nonsense.” 

“Take a moment to listen to me Curly. I’m not trying to rip you around here, I’m trying to give you a heads up. Embers is scared. She’s been through a lot, and that’s coming from the dwarf that survived the bullshit in Kirkwall.” Chuckling, he grabbed his stein. “Her mother was killed by a templar. You knew, that right?”

“I read her report. She failed to mention a name, but I am sure Sister Leliana has it.” 

“She does. But that’s not all of it. She nearly died that day too.” Varric kept his eyes locked on Cullen as he took in a dredge from this cup. “The Seeker mentioned it. A long scar running from her hip up to her bra band, on her right side up to her left. Deep too. Embers didn’t seem to mind speaking about it to the Seeker. In fact, I would say she wanted the Seeker to know. Wanted her to know the garbage they let the templars and Meredith get away with.” 

“I feel like there is more to this.” Cullen rolled his eyes as he brought the cup to his lips. “I should have…”

“There wasn’t much more you could have done Curly. Hawke and I were there. Embers has been hearing it too. You were a bit of a prick, but you never did Hawke wrong. Stood by her and her brother when the time came. Saved our skin too.” Raising the mug towards Cullen, Varric nodded before draining it down. “Embers is scared. She’s tough as shit but she’s scared. Hard to trust and been through as much as any of us.” 

“I see. So, what does this all have to do with my handling of the Herald?” Cullen pitched his voice, being mindful of the room and those close enough to hear. “Why tell me this? What does it have to do with what is happening now?” 

“I’m trying to warn you Curly. She’s pure fire and she’s been through a lot. There isn’t a ton of trust between templars and mages and she is the perfect storm. If you want to earn her trust you have to watch how you handle her.”

“While I am thankful for your input, I am confused as to why.” Cullen finished his mug and carefully pushed it to the side, lest the dwarf seek to refill it. “I simply wished to check on her well being. Since her appearance in Haven things have been less than pleasant for her and I fear this next adventure will be…” pausing he struggled to find the right word before he let out a firm gust of air out his nose. “Dangerous.” 

“You’re not very good at pursuing attractions, are you Curly?” Smirking wide Varric chuckled as Cullen chocked on his next breath. “She’s a fiery spirit Curly. Strong, independent and bold but there is a fear there. A damn deep one. Walk carefully. She’s been burned enough in her life.” Varric easily tossed a couple coins on the table. “This one’s on me. Next time, you’re buying.”

Cullen sat gob smacked as Varric calmly strolled out the doors and into the waning evening hours. Remembering his intent to speak with Kyrie he froze. ‘Not very good at pursuing attractions.’ It rang in his head. ‘Not very good at pursuing redemption.’ Not wanting to sulk in the midst of strangers and friends he rose and made a bee line for his tent. There was a lot to think about and his mind seemed more muddled than usual. With his hands in his mantle pockets and his head down he wasn’t pay much attention to his surroundings. Heading past Varric’s little campfire he caught the faint sound, barely a whisper upon the wind. Following it, he realized it was coming from the herald’s cabin. Pausing outside he held his breath, focusing on the whimpering noise. ‘She’s crying!’ Placing his hand on the door handle he wasn’t entirely sure what to say, what to do but he felt he was the cause of this, and he needed to fix it. 

“I can’t do this. Mom, I don’t know what to do. I’m not as sure as you were, not as strong. Maker, the way he looks at me, I don’t know. Can he be different? Is he what Varric claims he is or am I just wishing that this feeling rolling around inside me isn’t wrong?” 

“What?” Barely uttering the words under his breath, he waited a moment more. Embarrassed he was hearing her inner private thoughts, but also curious as to who she could be speaking about. “We’re leaving soon. Right into the mouth of a major predator. I know he’s going to try to kill me, that never bothered me before. But there are others mom. Innocent children that need me. People need me and I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right. I could really use a sign here. Something that someone cares…”

Drawing a tight breath, he pulled his hand off the handle and knocked upon the door. Not his usual stern pounding, but something more akin to the serving staff. “Herald?” Even his tone was soft, gentler than even he thought he could be. Patiently he waited, hearing her scampered behind the door, he surmised she was righting herself before opening to him. “Commander?”

“If it isn’t too much trouble, I was hoping to speak with you. You left so quickly I was…am concerned about your well being.” Internally slapping himself he tried to pull his brain together, tried to sound less like the Commander of the Inquisition and more like a simple man. One genuinely concerned about the well being of Kyrie. Not the Herald, or face of the Inquisition but the simple woman whose entire life was thrust upon its head. 

Slowly the door creaked open, and Kyrie poke her head out, “I… I’m alright.”

“I must tell you in all honesty I do not believe you my lady.” Cullen tried to soften himself, ease the tension from his shoulders as he kept a distance from her. “You left without word from the council meeting. I wished to check to see if you were well. If there was anything, I could do…”

“Thank you, Com…”

“Cullen, please call me Cullen.” Offering her a smile he caught the moment she eased and opened the door. “I wish to make things easier for you, if I can. Safer would be better as well.”

“Safety is nearly impossible in today’s environment Com… Cullen. I do appreciate the thought.” Awkwardly standing in the door way she curled and uncurled her toes in her shoes. Debating with herself to let him in. “Uh… I don’t… there’s tea and… would you care to come in and speak. It is awkward to talk in this way.” Pushing the door wider she stepped back to allow him room to pass through. 

Unsure if he should decline, he took a careful step into the cabin. It was as he remembered when they arrived in Haven. Nothing much had change. He had thought she would have added a few personal touches but there was little if any change at all. “Are you settling in well? If there is anything…”

“I require little. I have all I need. Thank you.” Settling with her back against the wall away from him she held her arms tight against her chest, her eyes tracing his every move. “I really am alright. Just a little tired, that’s all.” 

Cullen caught the sniffle as she spoke and the dark circles about her eyes. “My lady…”

“Kyrie, please.”

“Kyrie. I… I am not very good at this.” Sighing he ran his hand through his hair, stopping to squeeze the base of his neck, massaging the thick knots building there. “You look unwell. The stress you have been forced to endure is unkind and…”

“I’m fine.” Holding a hand up, her cheeks painted a dusty rose she cleared her throat. “There isn’t much I can do in my situation as it stands, Cullen. While I appreciate the kindness you are offering me, there are things I must handle on my own.” Her face fell as she rubbed at her arms. “We will be leaving soon, and…”

“And I worry.” Cullen uttered it far quicker than his brain was ready for. “There are too many unforeseen things…” pacing back and forth he shook his head. “I can’t protect you and…”

“Cullen.” Kyrie’s voice was firm, but he could hear the tremble as she shrunk back into the corner. “I have no choice and while I am able to help, I need to try. I need… I don’t know what I need.” Slumping back against the wall her shoulders shuttered as she tried to hold it all in. “I… I want to be alone.”

“I don’t think you do.” Taking a step towards her, he froze when she flinched. “I… I’m sorry. Perhaps I am not the one you wish to be near right now. I… Perhaps Varric or…” Pausing he found his chest tighten. He couldn’t bare to utter another name, another man. Why? He had no claim to her and clearly, she was still wary of him at the least. Deciding it was best that he just leave, he cleared his throat, nodded and pushed towards the door. “Wait.” Kyrie’s voice shot through him in an instant and he froze. “I’m sorry. I’m being… well you’re being so kind and I’m not… I don’t know about you Cullen. I don’t know what’s in your heart or your mind. I don’t know if you’re still that man in Kirkwall. The man that put fear into the eyes of so many. Or are you the man who saved the baby birds caught in the spider web? I need… I need more time. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I don’t know enough about any of this. But I want you to know I’m trying, and I want to be here. I want to help.” 

Scanning over her features he felt the flutter of hope bubble up in his belly. “Then I hope to show you who I am. Good evening, Kyrie. May the Maker watch over you.” Tipping his head once more he slipped out into the cool evening air.


	6. Stained

Sleep came easier than it had in a long time for both of them that night, an uneasy weight seemingly lifted. Come morning planning was priority. As Cullen had mentioned there were a lot of possibilities and outcomes that were beyond the ability to properly prepare for. Dorian made sure to go over the magical traps and devices he was certain Alexius would have in place. Kyrie spent the better part of the morning sitting with Josephine, going over diplomatic answers and ways to string the conversation along. Twenty of Leliana’s fastest and most skilled people would travel with Dorian through the tunnels to neutralize any resistance. Once inside it was up to them to throw open the gates and let the Inquisition’s people in. Cassandra, Varric, Blackwall and Solas would accompany her into the keep. “A small attaché would easily be ignored and discounted. More than them could lead to issues.” Leliana answered as she passed off a scroll to a waiting messenger. “Our forces will head to Redcliff and arrive ahead of you. Once you arrive at the castle it won’t be long before the assault commences. Stall for as long as you can. Then we will dispose this Magister.” 

“I’ll do my best.” Kyrie locked eyes again with Cullen, something sad called to her in his eyes before he looked away. “We should leave as soon as possible.” 

“Come morning light we shall begin.” Leliana nodded before returning her focus to the small group of men surrounding her. Kyrie took the moment to leave, feeling the urge to move overwhelming her. There was much left to do, and she wanted to make sure her companions had enough potions, and she was as prepared as she could be. 

Cullen watched her leave, the drive to follow her strong. But there was still so much to do, and he needed to focus all of his efforts on guaranteeing their success. He was tasked with staying behind. Continuing his work with the recruits and having them working with edged weapons by weeks end. Something he wasn’t entirely sure several of them were ready for. Which would mean more time needed to train. Filing that into his mind he dove into the planning. Being sure to cover every detail he could think of before calling it a night. 

The rest of the day was a blur of motion as the entire village of Haven busily prepared for the assault on the Magister in his stolen castle. By the next day the tension was palatable as Cullen oversaw the soldiers who were to wait near the gates. “Remember the signal will come fast and you must be prepared to rush in and protect the Herald. At all costs she must survive.” His tone carried a gravity to it that seemed to land upon the men and women like a lead weight. As he watched them all disappear into the distance, he heard a small voice near him, “ser.”

“Yes?” Turning he tried to maintain his calm as the young messenger handed him a letter. “From the Herald she said it was best to wait till she left. Said if you don’t hear back from her in three days to open the letter ser. That’s what she said.” 

Taking it in his hand he dug into his coin pouch and offered the youth some coin. “Thank you.” Turning his back, he quickly stuffed the sealed letter in his mantle’s internal pocket. Now was not the time to think of what may or may not be written. There was work to be done and they had a few days travel ahead of them. 

For the rest of the day he tried to block the letter from his mind and focus on training. Cassandra promised she would send word when they made camp and as soon as they had dealt with the Magister. Leliana had decided to travel with the men and Dorian through the tunnels. Her extensive knowledge of the castle was irreplaceable, and he saw it as their best chance at success to send her. This meant of course he would be forced to aid Josephine in co-ordinating Leliana’s agents in her steadfast. Something he was not looking forward to. 

After the first two days he knew they would be reporting soon, and he couldn’t sleep. Something rumbled about in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong. With his hands tied training and running Haven there was little he could do, and no where he could go. Working the recruits within an inch of their stamina he knew he was being too harsh, “take the next day to recover. Be prepared and all the earlier the next morning.” Dismissing the troops, he made his way to the Chantry. When trouble times haunted him in the past, he would turn to prayer. Perhaps it was foolish, it seemed in all his years the Maker never once answered him. Well, that wasn’t one hundred percent true. Kinloch. For some unknown reason he spared him in Kinloch. Spared him again in the fall of Kirkwall. Now, here in Haven things were slowly starting to make sense, and he was certain he was making a difference. Certain that this was the Maker’s will. His purpose. His redemption. 

Slipping into the tiny chapel he was thankful for the emptiness. Drawing in a calming breath he loved the sweet and tangy scent of the incense the lay Sisters and Mother always kept burning. It was comforting to him and right now he needed it. Shuffling himself off to the front of the small pews he knelt before the alabaster image of the Lady. That’s when it happened. Silence. No matter how he dug through his mind, he couldn’t come up with the words. Squeezing his eyes shut he tried the usual chanticles, something to help bring his mind about and center himself. But the words rang hollow in his ears and left him more frustrated than satisfied. Dropping his clenched hands, he huffed, “I’m afraid. For the first time in a long time, I am afraid.” Hanging his head, he drew in another deep breath before he rose and marched back out of the Chantry. He wasn’t going to get his answers in here, not today anyways and he felt like he was wasting time. 

After going about another intense workout and run along the outside of Haven he returned to the stack of messages and papers already piling high upon his desk. Reading through letter after letter his frustration grew, “I should have gotten word by now.” Flipping through several parchment pages he final huffed and decided it was best to head to Josephine’s office. She’d surely know something since he was away for a short period of time. Taking a few of the missives that required his approval he began the walk towards the Chantry. Along the way he caught the familiar caw of Baron Von Plucky. Quicken his step he took the shortest route to her office, knowing the loyal raven would arrive there. 

“Commander, perfect timing.” Josephine smiled sweetly as she placed a bit of meat before the bird. “We have word.”

“Please,” Cullen nodded as he took a seat across from her. 

“We have made camp outside of Redcliffe. The entire area seems on edge, like our presence is expected but unsure. The Herald is nervous. That much she has willingly shared. Come morning we will head to the castle and begin the mission. I shall send one once we have concluded our business with the Magister. Maker watch over us. Signed Cassandra Pentaghast.” Josephine sighed and passed the letter to Cullen so he could further investigate the neat writing. 

“This writing is old. The ink has been on this vellum for at least a day.” Cullen’s brows furrowed as he leveled a glare at Josephine. “Are you playing with me Ambassador?”

“No. I believe this was sent by Leliana’s messenger. Baron Von Plucky is her personal bird. I have no doubt we shall hear soon from them.” 

“If this letter is from yesterday, then they are in the castle now.” Swallowing hard he struggled to push down the lump forming in his chest. “And we have no word. When was the meeting to take place again?”

“This evening, just after nightfall.” Josephine pulled the letter up and handed it to him. “We will likely have word by morning. I have received a letter from his Majesty,” grabbing an expensive looking piece of velum bearing the royal seal Josephine read it back over. “King Alistair will be making his way to Redcliffe castle personally to deal with the usper. There is a good chance he will aid us or be there at the right time.” 

“More swords, good.” Trying to postulate how long the King’s men would arrive he didn’t bother to listen to the polite banter Josephine offered. His mind was too busy over analyzing every possible way things could go wrong. Too many ways. Pinching the bridge of his nose, quelling the growing throb building he politely motioned towards the door, knowing full well Josephine was informed of his situation. Once she waved him to leave, he plodded off down the hall, making a path to Adan. If he was needed, he would be at his best and the growing headache was not conductive to that. 

Kyrie stood, frozen in her place, eyes dead locked on Alexius as he groveled before her. Emotions laid dead inside as survival reigned. “Inquisition, bind him!” Leliana yelled as their men surrounded them. Heavy armored boots echoed through the hollow chamber, through Kyrie’s mind. Everything had happened in a course of an hour maybe two, yet the room around them seemed to have remained as it was when their forces entered. Whatever magic Alexius had used seemed to have only effected Dorian and her. Her mind reeled and spun as she tried to digest each bit she’d experienced. Their dark future if she failed. Failed. Against the warmth from the fire in the center of the room she felt frozen. While Fiona uttered platitudes, she hadn’t noticed the armored guard of the Fereldan King storm the room. Nor had she recognized the man himself, dressed in the finest leather trimmed in rich fur. “You must be the Herald I’ve heard so little and so much about.” His smile was radiant as he stood tall, arms behind his back, shoulders squared; the picture of royalty. 

“Yes. Kyrie Trevelyan, your majesty.” Her voice came out as a squeak before she managed to find it. “I apologize, I…”

“Have clearly been through a lot. But I am afraid I do not have time for a proper chat. I have a matter of state to address, perhaps another time?” Giving a measured tilt of his head he turned his full ire upon Fiona. Berating her for her choice to sign over the mages to a Magister of the Tevinter Imperium. Letting out a weak sigh he clenched his jaw tightly before issuing his decree. “You and all the mages under you must leave Fereldan. Immediately.”

“But there are young ones, babies with us and…”

“You should have thought about that before you threw your lot in with the Magister. However,” turning his gaze back to Kyrie he smiled. “It seems the Herald and her people are in a bind. Perhaps you would do best to take whatever they offer. Either way, you will be leaving here.” Nodding he turned his attentions back to his guards and their newest prisoner; Alexius. 

“I…” Looking back Kyrie made the decision. “I offer you an alliance. Equal partners with the Inquisition to seal the Breach.” Holding her hand out she waited, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room rest upon her. “We need your help and you need ours.” 

“It seems I have little other choice.” Fiona weakly smiled before she shook Kyrie’s hand. “I shall get my people moving to Haven. We shall see you there, Herald.” 

When the noise stilled and the chaos of everyone ended, Kyrie slipped away. Out into the woods surrounding Redcliffe. Away from anyone that could see her. Settling down she made a small fire for herself. Huddling to feel the warmth she shivered. “Damnit, damnit all.” Rubbing her hands over the flames she began to shudder and quake, more then the cold biting into her. After struggling against the flood building inside of herself the tears began to pour. Cupping her face in her hands she struggled to hold back the sobs as she cried. 

“It was a bit rough back there,” Dorian carefully settled down beside her, getting in close to wrap a blanket over her shoulders. “Not the nicest way to get to know one another.” 

“I’m… it’s fine.” Pulling her sleeve over her fist she wiped at her eyes. “If I fail…”

“You won’t darling. I promise you that.” Snuggling in close to her Dorian pushed his magic into the flame forcing it to burn hotter. “Let it out. We’ll leave when you’re ready to.” Allowing her to coil into him he chuckled. “Your Circles don’t really prepare you for the hardships outside. Stone cages for beautiful birds.” 

“I’m not from the Circle.” Sniffling she sighed, “my mother escaped before I was born. You don’t want to know what they do to pregnant women in the Circles.”

“I can’t think of anything pleasant. How did she escape?”

“My father. He was a templar and from what mother said, he loved her dearly. So dearly, he helped her escape.” Snorting she reached her hands out to fan over the flames. “Sadly, his valiant effort left them parted. She prayed to the Maker everyday. When news of the Circles hit, she hoped to find him. Start a new life with him.” Toying with the flames, she made them twist and shape, floating about the smoke in the form of her mother. “She was a really kind spirit. Always smiling, always ready to help no matter what. Tough as Silverite.” 

“That explains your casting. You have an organic feel when you weave your spells. Something I haven’t seen in some time.” Reaching out a cloud of violet smoke formed about his fingers. “Have you thought of looking for your father?”

“I want to, if he can be found. If he’s alive.” Snuffing out the figure she completely doused the flames. “Best to head back to camp. We’ll be heading to Haven soon enough.” Offering him a smile she held her hand out to him. “Thank you, by the way.” 

Taking her hand, he smirked, “for what? Being amazingly talented with time magic, or for being the perfect person to cozy up to near a camp fire?” 

Cullen paced up and down the training ground, barking his corrections as he stewed. Stewed in the knowledge that a large mass of mages were coming their way. Which would easily lead to conflict. With the Breach being as close as it was, there was also a good chance that the risk of abominations would be high. He’d read the letter over at least a dozen times, Cassandra warning him of the incoming mages, and who was responsible for the allegiance. He needed to bleed off the rage, the irrational fear digging at the base of his skull. Part of him rationally was aware that his fear was somewhat unfounded. He’d seen Hawke and her abilities in Kirkwall, how a mage could not only resist all temptations but to rise and become a hero. A hero. Trying to remember that, the image of Clara Hawke standing tall against Meredith. It was the only thing stopping his mind from reeling back to Kinloch, to the depravities of Uldred. To the scars that still peppered his skin, faded and silver, permanently etched into his being. 

Pushing the thought back he focused on what he could control; the men and women of Haven. He’d make sure that things were in some semblance of shape before their arrival. Hopefully with the time and effort his temper would cool. But by nightfall he felt no less angry. As the mages began to arrive in groups he set to work. Minimizing the fighting, putting in some barriers to stop the two factions from interacting took most of the night and by morning light he hadn’t slept. Not that he hadn’t pulled long hours before, this time just seemed to further sully his mood. By the time her group showed up he was burning inside. Furious with the disruption in training, the nearly constant threat of open fighting and the whining; non-stop whinging by both groups. His head pounded and his vision was murky by the time he managed to get away from the chaos and join them in the Chantry’s great hall. 

“Excellent work,” Leliana smiled as she praised Kyrie. “We should be able to close the Breach in a day or two. Give the mages a chance to settle in and prepare.” Her smile never faded as Cullen stormed towards them. He caught Leliana’s lips moving but at his distance could not make out what she was saying. Kyrie turned and in an instant, he saw the result. She’d moved to put her back towards the wall, keeping a tight distance away from him as he approached. “Commander, I understand…” Cassandra tried to placate him, something he was in no mood to hear. “I have not yet slept and while I am grateful for the aid in sealing the Breach, I am not pleased with the measure it was obtained by.” Folding his arms across his chest he was using every bit of restraint to stop from snapping. “The fighting has been nearly constant, the whining, the entitled…”

“Children.” Kyrie’s face was beet red as she glared him down. “There are babes, some with child in the groups.”

“I am aware of the youth, and mindful to be to tender, but with the Breach close, demons in the woods, and no monitoring…”

“We can monitor our own.” Kyrie snapped. “We do not need, nor want the brand wielding, rapists to watch our backs. We shall deliver justice to our own.” Swallowing hard she felt the heat curl about her, the air becoming warmer as her anger swelled. “Perhaps you may prefer us in collars, leashed to your side templar but…”

“I am no longer a templar.” Growling the words, he stuck to his space. “I am simply looking out for the well being of all. Those not properly trained could give in to temptation. An abomination, even one, in such tight quarters could decimate half of Haven in an hour. I have seen it myself.” There was an audible waver to his voice at the end before he dropped his arms, flexing his fingers to try to ebb away the memories lingering. “We need to keep them separate, until we can…”

“Agreed.” Cassandra nodded. “But this is a conversation for later. We have procured aid, which was the Herald’s task. We must now make preparations. Ambassador, can you…”

“I already have secured lyrium rations. They will be here come morning, along with more food, clothing and blankets. We will see our allies treated with respect and dignity.” Nodding sharply, she excused herself, several waiting messengers behind her. 

Cullen caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Dorian clapped slowly, “wonderful display. Now Kyrie, if I may, I wish to ask you something. Tell you rather, if you will have me.”

“Dorian! I was worried you might have left without saying goodbye.” Her eyes lit up as she rushed to the magister’s side. “Have you changed your mind?”

“I would like to remain. The South has its quaint qualities and I wish to see an end to the Breach. Perhaps even who created it. Yes, I think you need me.” Stroking his moustache, he grinned. “Would you care to celebrate over a glass of wine? My treat.”

“I’d love to,” as Dorian stepped forward and offered her his arm, she gleefully took it. Leliana cleared her throat, “we shall give the night to rest and tomorrow discuss plans for sealing the Breach. We would greatly appreciate your presence and opinions, Herald.” 

“Yes, please come with us.” Cassandra smiled wide and Kyrie could tell it was genuine. “I shall. Thank you.” 

Cullen watched as Kyrie disappeared out the front doors, arm and arm with the dashing young mage. Inside his stomach knotted, anger coiled tight. Before he could utter a sound, Cassandra spoke, “you look unwell. Go and get some rest I will tend to the mages and templars.” Grunting his reply, he stormed out into the night air. He needed to do something, anything to calm the burning craving inside, the possessive sensation gnawing at his chest. Heading straight to his tent he caught it the beginning of a heated fight. Two templars and two mages arguing very loudly just down the small alley leading towards the tavern. Half running, his body humming in pain he pushed his way to the middle. 

Kyrie could hear it clearly, feel the crackle of energy in the air as magic was beginning to swirl and rushed from her seat in the back of the tavern. Dorian flew along side her. Reached the entrance they slammed the door behind them, keeping the people inside. With her eyes stuck on the scene before her she watched in abject horror as the group began to push each other, voices raising as they uttered threats back and forth.

“Blighted mage!”

“Rapist, murder!”

“Enough!” Cullen’s voice boomed out as he drew his sword. Kyrie jerked forward only to stop when Cullen shoved it in the faces of the templars. “Go back to your tents, or else.” Kyrie’s mouth flew open to warn Cullen of the coming assault, as one of the mages began to mumble. Instantly Cullen turned, an aura of blue energy burst from his chest and knocked both mages over. “To your tents!” In the pale moon light, the glint on his sword made it clear he meant to use it, if the need arose. Turning his gaze back to the templars he pushed the blade under the loudest man’s chin. “Now.” 

“Contain the noise.” Dorian waved as he motioned towards the Chantry. “I’ll get the Seeker!” Rushing off before she could protest, Kyrie groaned as she raised her arms, dropping a large barrier about the mess. That instantly drew the attention of the templars, who drew their swords. “Shit…” gritting between her teeth she saw the two mages rise and begin to regain themselves. “Shit…” She was more than painfully aware of the tension, and the danger. If she were to strike out at the templars, the mages could be punished. If she were to do nothing, she didn’t want to think about it. Trying to decide her course of action while she held the bubble she screamed when Cullen moved. He was fast, impressively fast and in a blur, he was standing before the two men, his sword clashing against theirs. “I said to your tents!” 

“Dirty mage lover!” One shouted in his face as he took an offensive position. Kyrie could feel the magic canceling energy building. Bracing herself for the punch of it she was stunned to hear a loud crack. As the templar had moved to silence her, Cullen brought the hilt of his sword upside the uncovered head of the one man, while simultaneously kicking the legs out from under the other man. As the first fell he turned and leveled a deafening punch across the remaining templar’s jaw, dropping him to the ground. Spinning with a grace few would think he possessed he raised his steel towards the mages, “go back to your tents.”


	7. Igni

“Yes, Commander.” The two uttered hurriedly before rushing towards their assigned beds. With the threat seemingly gone, Kyrie let down the buffering barrier. “Commander Cullen!” Cassandra came rushing, her blade drawn. “Dorian told me of… I see you have everything sorted then.”

“Get these men out of here. They are not fit to serve in the Inquisition.” Cullen growled as the two slowly came around. “They refused to follow orders, disobeyed a directive and attempted to assault the Herald.” Shifting his weight, he sheathed his sword, his eyes glued to the two men. As they each stood, foul glances upon their eyes, he shook his head. “I would not dare it. Not before the Seeker.” 

Unsure of what he spoke of Kyrie watched Cassandra intently. Seeing her eyes flicker with an eerie glow. Before either man could do anything, they both howled out in pain, clawing at their chest and arms. “Leave Haven. Do not return.” Cassandra leveled her gaze upon them, her hand curled into a light fist before her. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Seeker Cassandra…”

“I will take it from here, Commander.” Waving her hand out, she directed the two men. Yelling for everyone to clear out and return to their tasks caused the gathering crowd to scurry. None wishing to incite the Seeker and earn her personal ire. 

Kyrie was frozen where she was when it all began, just looking out as people disappeared back to their spaces. It was low, something just barely above the calm night breeze but instantly she knew it. Tracking through the movement she watched as Cullen slipped past people and dipped into the alcove around the back of the tavern. His face was pale, a light sheen across his forehead as he rushed by. Curiosity led her to follow, as silently as she could, weaving through the backs of the few buildings until he stopped. Ducking back against the building she held her breath, hoping the night shielded her from his sight. When no shouting came, she peeked, ever so slowly about to see him. He was half braced against the exterior walls of Haven, his forehead pressed against the wood. Steam rose off the top of his head as he continued to breathe heavily. Going to move he barely pushed back when his knees buckled, and he came down hard upon the ground. 

Instinct to rush to aid almost overwhelmed her need to see what was going on. Holding herself as still as she could she kept her eyes locked to him, watching as he struggled and fell twice more in the effort to rise. Eventually using his sword to push his body up off the ground. When he rose, she could see how pale he was, his eyes clearly glossed over. Steaming breath was coming out as he panted, more beast than man before he growled and through his head back. “Maker take me!” Kicking at a rock he slammed his sword back into its sheath before drawing in a deep breath and storming off towards the Chantry. 

“Spying, Embers?”

“VARRIC!” Nearly jumping out of her skin, she clasped her hand to her chest. “Don’t sneak on people. It’s rude.” Rushing around the side of the building, out of his possible sight line, she waved her hands in front of her. “Its not what it looks like. I was…”

“Spying. There really isn’t any other word for it. Did you think about asking him what’s going on?” Crossing his arms Varric smirked. “Unless that’s the point of spying. Why ask when you can see.”

“Its… I… I will buy you the next six rounds if you promise not to speak a work of this to anyone.” Wringing her hands together she couldn’t get the image out of her head. Cullen slumped over in the snow, shaking and wide eyed. There was something going on with him. Yet he maintained neutrality against the two factions. Something she wasn’t entirely counting on. “Sure thing Embers. But one of these days you’re going to have to talk to Curly. Seriously talk to Curly.” 

“We… I need to focus on closing the Breach. First. Drinks?” Groaning as she leaned upon her hip she dug in her pocket. “I’ve got enough coin for a few pints. Each.”

“Deal.” 

Cullen had caught the startled noise behind him and with the pain coursing through his body he thought it best to move. Staggering off towards the Chantry he found his private solace on bent knee before the statue of Andraste. Mumbling through Chanticles, mindlessly reciting passages memorized he felt no better or worse than before. He’d exerted the last of the active lyrium in his body to hold back the mages and was beyond thankful for Cassandra’s timing. In open combat he could have handled himself against the young templars, but with the withdrawal beginning to edge over him, he wasn’t sure how well he’d fair. Taking longer than he wanted to rise from his meditation he composed himself, best he could, before heading towards his tent. Praying sleep might take away some of the sting and restore his power. They would be marching soon, and he needed to be at his best, lest the worst came to pass. 

Sleep gave him no reprieve and by morning he was in a foul mood. Going so far as to snap at the servant tasked to bring him his breakfast. Rushing to apologize he was left a bumbling mess as the young woman burst into tears and ran. By the time he managed to wrap his head around everything he felt far foggier than he anticipated. Pushing through his morning drills he was waved down by Cassandra. “Lady…”

“It is maddening. Why does everyone assume I can fix everything?”

“Perhaps it has to do with you being a Seeker of Truth.” Crossing his arms, he waited for Cassandra to calm herself before continuing. “We are as prepared as I believe we will be to handle the Breach. We need only go.”

“I have left that decision up to the Herald. She is the one who’s life is in the balance. It is only fair to allow her the chance to decide.” Cassandra let out a disgusted noise as she watched two men begin to quarrel. “The sooner, the better.” 

Rolling out of bed, she could feel it. Something prickling along her spine, like a reminder left forgotten but not long gone. “Breach,” she gritted as she rolled up and rose. “Tomorrow?” Sighing she knew well enough that she was putting it off. Like a nightmare she had no choice but to accept. It would be a days travel, maybe two with an army behind her. An army. Maker knew Cullen wasn’t going to let her travel lightly, or alone. Sticking her head out her door she flagged down a messenger. “I need the Seeker, soon as you can.” Swallowing hard she closed her eyes. “Alright mom, let’s save the world.” 

The march to the summit went far sooner than she’d thought it would, fear wound tight in her chest. There was no guarantee. No promise that with this boost to the magic in her palm, that the tear would seal. Nor was there a promise that she would walk away. Her first attempt had taken her into a sweet embrace of darkness. When she woke her body had hummed and pulsed in stiff soreness, every muscle taxed to its extreme state before she succumbed. Seeing it again, feeling the tingle of magic tremble over her skin she shuttered. “Ready when you are.” Cassandra nodded before Solas began preparing the mages. Placing herself at the base, as she did before, she closed her eyes. Solas barked out the command for the mages to beginning pooling their magic, focusing it so the mark would draw it and seal the Breach.

Cullen watched; eyes keen on the entire event. He could feel the magic about him, his skin tingling as the power radiated up and swirled around the Breach. He had to brace himself as the feeling made him nauseous. Holding his breath, he waited for the moment, the exact second, he thought the entire event would shatter and dissolve. Instead, quiet embraced them all. Sudden and light, as the sky calmed, the faint scar a reminder of what could have been. Bracing his hands against the remains of a railing he watched as Kyrie carefully collected herself from a kneeling position, dusting off her cloak. 

The group buzzed and hummed with celebration as they marched back to Haven. Someone had brought a lute and was eagerly plucking away as they trudged through the freshly fallen snow. But Kyrie was in no mood to celebrate. With the Breach dealt with, she could begin her hunt. When they arrived at Haven the hour was late. Retiring to her cabin she needed rest. Come morning she would speak with Leliana about the progress tracking down the man responsible for her mother’s death. From there, she wasn’t entirely sure what she was going to do. By morning light all of Haven was busy preparing to celebrate. It was difficult for her to move about, people constantly wanting to take a moment to speak to her, thank her and offered her drink. By the time she managed to peel herself away form the hordes of fans she slipped into the Chantry, only to run into a very busy Leliana. She was conducting business, sending her scouts out to search for some of the threads Kyrie had witnessed in the alternative future. Something about the Empress, a legion of demons and the fall of Thedas. It still made her shiver remembering the icy cold water and angry pulsing crystal. 

Catching Leliana’s eye she nodded and motioned to the war room. Leliana returned a sweet smile and soft bob of her head. Walking past the crowd she went straight to the room, the usual map laid out, several new markers placed upon the different locations she’d travelled. Tracing her finger along the path she’d planned out to reach the Conclave she sighed. Was it over? With all she’d seen, all she’d endured, was this the right time to part ways? To finish what she set out for. “You’ve come far.” Leliana’s voice was buttery sweet, nearly as soft as a butterfly’s wing. “I have.”

“There is still much to do.” Leliana took a position across the table from her. “And yet, your own quest looms. I have some information but not enough to track his whereabouts. I need some more time. It seems the Templars that once resided within the halls of Therinfal Redoubt, have abandoned their post. Reports coming in speak of horrors within the walls. And…”

Outside the warning bell rang out. Loud and long, followed by screaming. Leliana raced out the door, only stopping for a quiver and bow just within the reaches of another open doorway. “Where is the Commander?” She yelled to a scout rushing towards her. “He is tending to the front. We have an incoming army.”

“Under who’s banner?”

“None, my Lady,” he swallowed hard before the front doors burst open, a young man with a large hat sheathed his daggers. “You. He comes for you, out there, the Elder One. Do you know him? He knows you.” In a blink he was gone again. Leaving everyone confused as they rushed to see what was occurring outside. 

Kyrie pushed her way through, breaching the door she was stunned to see men in templar armor scaling the walls, striking down any they ran into. “Maker…” she gasped as she looked about her. She’d removed her armor, left her staff for repairs with Harriet and now, they were under siege. Casting out to defend the few she could, she made a rapid dash to the smithy’s spot. Against the wall she saw her equipment, repaired and ready. Suiting up as fast as she could manage, she spun about slamming her staff into the exposed head of the archer rushing up the path. “Herald!” Cullen’s voice broke her concentration. “You need to get inside; we need to fall back. Haven wasn’t made to withstand an attack.”

“I am aware of the danger, but there are those who cannot defend themselves. We must protect the innocent.” Casting a blast of fire past Cullen’s head, she gripped her staff tightly. “I intend to save as many as I can.” 

“Agreed. Keep safe and fall back to the….” Before he could finish a blast of fiery breath erupted through the sky and lit several of the small huts a blaze. “Dragon!” Cullen bellowed his eyes wild, “get to the Chantry, it’s the only thing that can withstand… that!” 

“Move!” Kyrie growled as she cast out a barrier just blocking the wave of fire from cascading over them, the heat still searing through and burning her cheeks. “Grab as many as you can. We have to move.” He grabbed her arm, “we stand little chance like this. We’re surrounded by fire.”

“I am fire.” Kyrie roared as she twisted the magic, bending the flames away from them and harmlessly extinguishing the blaze. “Get to safety.” Pulling her arm free of his grasp she ran, straight towards the first sounds of screaming. Adan and the elven woman whose name escaped her were trapped. Easily putting out the fire she caught sight of Blackwall, “get them inside.” 

“What of you, my lady?” Blackwall’s eyes danced; fear clearly present. “I will not be long.” She nodded moving down the path. What little resistance she encountered were busily engaged with Haven’s soldiers. Doing their best to stem the flow. This time she heard the roar as the dragon swooped in low, grabbing a few men before lifting off high into the sky. 

Knowing her timing was limited, she rushed towards the Chantry, saving the few remaining she could. Cullen was at the doors, grabbing anyone that came by. When he locked eyes with her, he reached out his hand, taking hers, he pulled her into himself before he slammed the heavy thick doors shut. “We are lost.” 

“We… Why? Who is attacking?” Stammering out the words, Kyrie wiped at her brow, sweat already beginning to slick her back. “Who…”

“He calls himself the Elder One. You stole his mages, and he’s angry. He wants you. He came here for you.” The same young man she saw at the door was standing a few feet away, helping Chancellor Roderick to a seat, the man’s face pale. “He’s been stabbed, by a red templar. He’s dying.” 

“Red templar? Elder One?” Kyrie grabbed at her head, the world seeming to rotate and swirl around her. “There has to be…”

“There is no way.” Cullen sighed heavily as he sheathed his sword. “We’re barracked in. No way out, and if we try, the dragon will slaughter us all. We had a good shot with the trebuchets but now….”

“He knows a way,” the young lad cleared his throat. “He can take us from here. He wants to help, to make it right before he dies.”

Roderick went on, speaking about a hidden passage from long ago covered over in the war room. “Take the people and go.” Kyrie licked at her dry lips. “He wants me, I’ll keep him busy.” 

“Kyrie!” Cullen uttered it so quickly he didn’t even think. “It’s madness! If you go out there…”

“It will give you time.” Kyrie shook her head. “I have a hunt to finish Cullen. I will not fail her.” Pausing there was something more she wanted to ask, something on the tip of her tongue but her mind was blank. Terror and reality were competing for the space in her thoughts. “We will send up a signal once we are above the tree line. If you can turn the trebuchet to the largest peak, it will level the mountain on top of Haven. They cannot follow.” His mouth was dry, the idea sound and logical but the asking rendered part of him. “You…”

“I will find a way.” Nodding she turned back to the young man, “get these people to safety. There is a mage amongst us that can heal. Even if the wound is fatal, we can preserve him long enough to save the people.” 

“He wants to try.” Slinging Roderick’s arm over his shoulder the ghostly looking lad helped him hobble towards the war room. Trying not to think of what could happen she watched as a thin looking female mage in dour robes clutched a small babe to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Gripping her staff tighter Kyrie stormed towards the large doors, the only thought in her mind of the young child, peacefully sleeping through all that happened around them. Feeling safe and secure in his mother’s arms. 

Cullen was consumed with people, all fleeing afraid and desperate, leaving him no time to think of anything outside of the task at hand. As Roderick guided them through the underground passage and through the broken ruins of old, they finally saw the starry night sky after what felt like an eternity. Once above the tree line he noticed Leliana knock an arrow. With a soft word from Solas it glowed brightly as it launched up into the night sky. “Maker preserve her.” He barely uttered the word when the bolt from the trebuchet flew, up into the mountain side across from them. With a thunderous noise it came down, a roar that engulfed all he could see. Barely a speck in the night sky, they watched the dragon rise above it all, hover for a moment and fly off. “We should make camp here,” Cassandra huffed as she dropped a bundle of logs. “There are enough ruins to protect from the cold, and tree line to protect from the wind. We stand a better chance here.” 

“Agreed.” Leliana sighed as she received the first letter from her agent. “The creature has left the area. We are safe for now.” 

Her vision blurred as she pressed forward into the freezing, blistering winds that were whipping her hair about her face. Her mana was tapped out and the last bit of warmth was leaving her as she stumbled through the near waist deep snow. She’d done everything she could to save her own life, to cushion the fall down the mine shaft. As she took the last step she could, she could hear Cassandra calling her name. “Maker, please…” uttering nothing further she collapsed down, only to feel something lift her. Weak and barely able to open her eyes she tried to see who held her, cradled her so gently, towards safety. Before she could see her saviour or ask a word, she slipped to blackness. 

For the next few days she slipped in and out, feeling like she was drowning in an ocean of shimmering colours and sounds. Cullen stood watch, ever the careful guard as the healers did their work. Many times, he paced back and forth, feeling more and more frustrated that he could do no more. 

His temper was further sullen as the efforts to sum up their location seemed fruitless. They resided somewhere in the Frostback Mountain, between Haven and the unknown. Supplies where beginning to run short, shorter still the tempers of those left in charge. By the time Kyrie woke, much had begun to boil over, and moral was at it’s lowest. With all the yelling between the advisers, and the fears of those around her, she wanted to do something, anything to move them from this. Still in her mind she could see the woman, clutching her child, and she needed to do something. When Solas offered her Skyhold and a way, she jumped at it. Wounded and still healing she pushed through the mountain passage to the ancient fortified keep. 

She didn’t rest, not taking a moment to herself until the last man crossed the bridge into their new home. Along the road she gave every last bit of information she could remember to Leliana. This creature, Corypheus, was a threat to any and all. He was the Elder One from the forsaken future, the death of anything and everything. It had made her skin crawl, knowing he was the one behind so much suffering, behind so much death. If she could do anything, it would be to stop him. At all costs. 

Cullen watched her, in silence as she led. Instructed those who needed and coached those who were lost. In a matter for a few days they had managed to uncover much of the debris littered keep. Mages and templars, man and woman, helping, side by side with no qualms. It was a stunning feat, one he thought deserved more. When he broached it, he was pleased to know he was not alone. Cassandra had come to the decision long before but had not had the time to convene. These events simply solidified her thoughts. 

That day, they made the announcement to her. Telling her of their highest praise and she in humblest manner, took hold of the sword, rose it above her head and made one declaration. “The Inquisition stands for all. Man, woman, child, mage, templar, elf, human and dwarf. We are all one. We are the Inquisition.”


	8. Tepid Water

Standing in her quarters she couldn’t believe this was all for her. Inquisitor Trevelyan. It sounded strange. Sounded foreign as she repeated it several more times. “Not a vast improvement from Herald.” Varric’s voice broke her contemplation. “Same job, just a fancier title.” Wearily smiling she let herself relax around him. “There’s a lot to do and so many ways I could get it wrong.” Flopping down onto the edge of her bed she huffed. “Any advise Varric?”

“Me? Now what makes you think I’m a good advisor Embers?” Standing at the edge of the stair case he chuckled. “I’m not necessarily known for making good choices.” 

“I trust you. I trust you will be honest with me and tell me when I’m making a mistake. I trust that you have my back.” Resting her elbows on her knees she smooshed her face in her hands. “You aren’t one to put on airs about me. Just because of a title or my magic.”

“Dwarfs are immune to magic,” smirking wide he casually walked across the room to sit upon the couch near her bed. “I’ll do my best, but you have to make your own choices.”

“I know. I just, want a little guidance, mixed in with a healthy amount of ale and humor.” Smiling wide she sat up a bit straighter. “From a good friend.” 

Cullen groaned as he pressed his palms into the edge of the wooden table, needing the sharp pain to curb the throbbing ache pulsing through him. Sleep had been nearly impossible since Haven. On top of the effects of his withdrawal raging through his system he was now dealing with flashbacks. Horrible images of fire, blood, and bodies. Kirkwall blended into Kinloch, every agonizing crime, every heart rendering moment he suffered through bled together into one amalgamated horror. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see it, feel the fire hot against his skin, hear the screams as those he could not reach perished. All while he lived. Again. Part of him wanted to run, get as far away as he could. His luck couldn’t possibly hold out much longer, and surely, he was destined for an agonizing and brutal death. Perhaps, he deserved nothing less. Perhaps, that was what awaited him through all this. Through all he’d seen and survived, done and endured; death. 

Shaking himself from the melancholy threatening to consume him, he looked over the stack of letters. They had cleared the war room out only but a day ago and Josephine had a massive table brought in. Carved and painted with the map of Thedas upon it. More of the metal markers laid out and pinned to several locations he was aware of. Flipping through the stack he tried his best to focus. Soon they’d be calling a meeting to discuss Kyrie’s conversation with Hawke. He still couldn’t believe Clara was here. Not after all the effort she’d gone through and the sudden disappearance of her from Kirkwall. It was convenient to say the least, and he knew full well Cassandra was going to kill Varric, if she could catch him. The thought of her chasing the stout rogue about Skyhold made him giggle. 

“Something amusing Commander?” Leliana smiled as she came into the room, a single scroll in her hands. “You could say no, but I have little doubt you have already thought of Cassandra’s reaction.” 

“I have.” Giggling Leliana laid the scroll out of the table. “We have much to discuss with our new Inquisitor. Has she come to see you yet?”

“Yes and no.” Cullen shrugged. “She asked if I could follow her. She seemed genuinely shocked when I answered her back.”

“May I ask what you said?” 

“To the ends of Thedas, my lady.” 

“I have to thank you, by the way.” Varric smirked as he took a swig from his tankard. “Though the Seeker seemed to forget about the height difference. I doubt I would have been as lucky on the second shot.”

“She seemed quite intent on leveling you,” Kyrie chuckled as she finished writing out her last message. Setting her quill back in it’s pot she pushed her chair back. “I’m hoping you two can forgive and forget. She was very upset, but I think it was for reasons beyond anyone’s control. I will have to speak with her before too long.” 

“Let the Seeker cool her head. It’s been a pretty insane couple weeks. We’re not even one hundred percent set up here. And I hear we’ll be leaving soon.” 

“Spy.” Kyrie stuck her tongue out earning her a hearty laugh. “Perhaps. There are a few locations of interest and I know Hawke wishes us to follow her to Crestwood. I’m not entirely sure what is the best course of action.”

“That’s what your advisors are for.” Draining the last of his ale, Varric stood up and brushed his pants off. “But I have some well overdue letters to the Merchants guild. They’re nearly as deadly as these Venatori thugs.” Making a dramatic wave of his hand and bow he grinned wide. “Till later, Inquisitor.” 

“Don’t you start that,” Kyrie pointed her finger at him, issuing him a glare that could melt steel. “I’m still me.”

“Good thing too Embers. Don’t need you getting a big head on us.” Waving Varric disappeared down the steps, leaving her alone. Scanning over her papers she picked up two separate sheets that had caught her attention. One of a man that was looking for her in Val Royeux, asking to speak to her, to any who would listen. He managed to find an agent of the Inquisition and give them express instructions of where to find him, and that he needed to see her as soon as possible. Her mind could only think of one man it could be; her father. Perhaps it was hoping against hope or some strange plan of the Maker, but she knew in her heart it was him. It had to be. Who else could it have been? The other was a letter requesting a private meeting with Cullen, some important information she needed to be informed of. Biting her lip, she didn’t know how best to handle that. His words still rung out in her ears, the lack of hesitation, ‘to the ends of Thedas.’ 

Again, she read it over, analysed each letter, each choice of word, each elegant stroke from the quill. Cullen has impeccable writing. Neat, easy to read, clear and concise. He chose his words carefully, she could tell that much by the pause in his writing, the small bit of extra ink that sat on the last letter. “Inquisitor Trevelyan, I do not wish to take up much of your time, but there is a pressing matter I need to speak with you on. If you would kindly come to my office above the Keep palisades at your discretion, I will inform you post haste. Thank you. Commander Cullen.” 

Going to flick the letter into the air she paused. Carefully folding it in half she opened the top draw of her desk and neatly stashed it under a bag. Closing the drawer, she licked at her lips. “To the ends of Thedas,” shaking her head she rose, tossing the other letter into the air, letting it crumble to ash as she calmly straightened her shirt and headed down the stairs. 

The meeting went as he expected, Kyrie listened intently, asked questions and rendered decisions with easy. Whether she admitted it or not, she was a natural leader. Charismatic, warm and compassionate. He couldn’t help the feeling blooming through him. She seemed much better, the heavy bruising that covered her face and neck were now gone. If she were still sore, she showed no signs of discomfort. If anything, she seemed more determined than before, more interested in the small details. When they were all said and done, he was loathed to admit he didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want to have to go back to his lone tower. “Commander,” she remained as neutral as she had the whole meeting. “If you are not busy, I would like to speak with you. Perhaps here?”

“As you wish.” Tipping his head, he tapped the papers upon the table. Something that startled her initially as Leliana and Josephine quietly made their way out of the room. “I was hoping to speak with you in private. You never returned my letter.”

“I apologize.” She cleared her throat, steadying herself on the other side of the table from him. “I have had many letters since my appointment. It has been a rather long week.”

“Understandably so. I apologize for taking up your time. I will not be long, unless you wish to speak at another time. I respect that others may have need of you.” Despite the pain coursing through him he focused on his decorum. Maintaining as neutral and calm of an exterior as he could. Wishing that he were anything but the imposing force she feared. “I…”

“No, it’s fine. You asked for my time, let me hear what you need.” Smiling she couldn’t help but notice how his hand shook before he eased it to rest upon the sheathed hilt of his blade, his other hand coming to rest atop of that. “I have several decisions to make and perhaps your council could lend a new perspective.”

“I shall try.” Nodding he drew in a long breath before he launched into the pressing matter; Samson. He had been the man to lead the army of Corypheus. A man he was all too familiar with. After explaining things, the best he could he paused, letting her soak in the details. In turn she glanced at the map, her eyes drawn immediately to Haven. At least, where it once stood. They’d sent men in an attempt to recover bodies, anything of use and clear the area. Little could be salvaged but Cullen kept it on him at all times, a small scroll with the names of all they’d lost, right in his breast pocket. Another weight to bare. “We saved many.” She interrupted his thoughts, as if she could hear where his mind lingered. “Yes, it could have been much worse without Roderick’s sacrifice and yours.” Choking out the last word he looked down to the map. Before he could say anything, she spoke. “I’m glad you… so many made it out.” His eyes darted up to her face, her cheeks were vibrant red. “I swear to you, that will never happen again. You have my word.” It came out in a wave, strong and pure. Something he hadn’t planned on saying or with the conviction that it carried but he meant it. Next time, if there was a next time, he would rush out to face it. Alone. 

“You wished to speak of something else?” Kyrie tried to relax, the information on Samson was eye opening, to say the least and she appreciated Cullen’s candor. Again, he drew in a tight breath and this time, things seemed different. Like he was afraid. “Templars.” Pausing he closed his eyes for a moment before looking up and locking them with hers. “Take lyrium in order to utilize techniques to disrupt magic. Its… it becomes addicting. Over time many lose their memories, some die. Without it, the consequence is similar if not worse for some.” Licking at his lips he felt his mouth run dry. “I told you in Haven, I am no longer a templar. After all I have seen and endured, I no longer wished to be part of that life any longer. I… I no longer take it.”

Kyrie’s eyes widened in disbelief, “but I felt you. I felt you silence those two at Haven. How…”

“I used what little was left in my body. It… was unpleasant afterwards. I can understand if you do not believe me. Many of the side affects are unknown. Few if any have ever stopped taking it and been successful. Fewer still have spoken about it. Cassandra has vowed to, watch me. I will not let the Inquisition falter, and another will be put in my place if I cannot continue with my tasks.” Snatching up the papers he couldn’t bare to hear her speak, her face still set in a look of shock and disbelief. “If you have any further need of me, I will be in my tower. Good day, Inquisitor.” 

Kyrie couldn’t utter a word as he rushed out of the room, leaving her alone. Blinking several times, she couldn’t think straight. He’d done all he’d done up to this point while depriving himself of lyrium? It didn’t make any sense. After all she’d heard outside of Kirkwall, now this. Why? What did he see? What was he talking about? Part of her wanted to rush after him, make him tell her the truth. But she knew inside he was being honest. Painfully so. His face when he made that promise stuck with her. Chewing the inside of her lip she knew what she wanted to do. There was time after all. Hawke’s trek to Crestwood wouldn’t be for a few days anyways. Nodding sharply at the map she knew exactly who she wanted to see right now. 

Dorian flicked another book off the shelve, grumbling as he went. “Dorian!” Kyrie’s voice barely registered as he continued to dig, searching for anything on the post-modern families of Tevinter. “Dorian!” She finally tapped him on the shoulder, breaking him from his search. “You know my darling, your library is an absolute mess. Nothing of worth here. You’d think being the Inquisitor would lend you the most impressive tomes. I plan on remedying that.” 

“Dorian. I need your help. I want your help and I have a small confession as well.” Toying with her fingers she sighed. “I think I’ve found my father.” 

“Wonderful. When do we leave?” Clapping the book shut he smiled wide. “Best to pack small, we can travel quicker in a little group. Less need to stop.”

“Thank you!”

Gathering as much as they could, they decided to take Blackwall and Ironbull with them. It was a rush and both men could move quickly while providing the best support. Even if Dorian didn’t necessarily enjoy travelling with them. Taking horseback and barely uttering where they were headed to, they raced from Skyhold, Kyrie leading the way. 

Progress was good through the first leg of their journey. Blackwall was an excellent horseman and Bull kept the conversation light as they traveled down the mountain path towards the location set out. It wasn’t far from Redcliffe Village, which worked out fine as Kyrie explained the second reason, she requested Dorian to come along. “My father!” He practically shrieked as he read the letter, the flickering fire providing just enough light. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want Mother Gisele to over hear that I told you and I wanted you to know. It’s not right to just drag you out to some strange meeting. I am concerned for your well being.” Cozied up to the man, she felt the heat swirl through her. Iron Bull had brought out the ale and they had all drank their fair share before settling down for the evening. “I’m serious.”

“I’m more than aware of your intent. Which is half the reason I’m not in arms.” Dorian sighed loudly, allowing himself to slump forward, elbows pressed into his knees. “Once we locate your father, I would very much appreciate it if you accompanied me to the inn. I do not know if this is some trap. Some ploy to knock me over the head and drag me back to Tevinter or some false flag meant to bring harm. And… I would be forever grateful if you were by my side.” He allowed her to coil about him, resting his head atop of hers. “You have a talent for making things in your way disappear. I’m quite fond of being on the opposite of that.”

“Please don’t be afraid of me. I am sick of people being afraid of me.” Letting out a long huff she nuzzled her head onto his shoulder, her eyes growing heavy. “I just want to be me. Plain, boring me.”

“Darling, there is nothing boring about you.” Pressing a warm kiss to the top of her head he yawned. “But it would be best to retire for the evening. We can get an early start tomorrow and hopefully find your missing father. It is a long overdue meeting.”

“Yes.” Echoing his yawn, she was slow to peel herself from him. “I don’t yet know how to feel about it. Any of it. But I guess I will know soon enough. Rest well.” Staggering to her tent, she was numb. There were many things her mother had told her about her father. How he talked, his gentle eyes and the strange way he always smelled of lavender. Nothing like the cheaply bottled oils they made in the local apothecaries, but the rich, fragrance of a fresh sun kissed flower. Like Kyrie he had rich milk chocolate hair, something her mother remembered fondly. “He wasn’t like the other templars, his eyes were always so warm. So welcoming. He would listen to me for as long as I needed, no matter how exhausted he became. You take after him, a tender heart, full of compassion.” Running her hands down her face, she wondered if she would recognize the man. The man she’d never seen. Her father. Drawing in a deep breath she flopped down into her cot. 

Sleep came about as well as she expected it to and come morning, she was tired. Dragging herself through the paces she just wanted it over with. Even Dorian’s usual chipper quips fell short with her. Blackwall caught up to her, pulling his horse to trot alongside hers, “my lady, you are dour today.” 

“Sleep did not find me as easily as it usually does.” Not wanting to look him in the eyes she continued to look ahead. “I am uncertain how to feel. If I am to feel anything at all.”

“My lady, this is a difficult experience, I am sure of that. It seems to have fallen hard upon your shoulders.” Blackwall’s voice was low, pitched as to avoid the others picking up his words. “Is this what you want? We do not need to do this if you wish it.”

“I… I honestly don’t know. I want to see him; I need to know who gave me life. Who sacrificed everything for me to be here, but I am afraid. Will I live up to all he has dreamed of? Am I…. Am I good enough?” Fighting the emotions, she shook her head. “I am a fool.”

“My lady, you are more than enough.” Blackwall reached over, placing his hand over hers. “Never doubt that.”

“Thank you.” Giving his hand a squeeze, she drew in a deep breath, holding it for a second before letting it out. “We are here.” Approaching the cross roads she felt everything inside of her draw tight. He would be here, aiding with the suffering of those caught in the now dead war between templar and mage. Roping her horse to the small outpost set up by the Inquisition she tried to remain calm as she approached the third hut on the west side of the out crop. Pausing she looked back, Iron Bull flashed her a wide grin and stuck up two thumbs in support. Blackwall casually nodded his approval while Dorian waved his hand, feigning disinterest. Balling her fist up she held her breath as she knocked rapidly three times upon the door. “One moment.” His voice was not what she’d expected. Somehow, she’d imagined a deep baritone, not unlike Cullen’s or Blackwall’s. But this voice was softer, more like Dorian’s but a lightness she hadn’t anticipated either. 

As the door opened in, he poked his head out. A tall man, easily as trim and fit as Dorian if not two fingers taller. His milk chocolate hair was trimmed neatly, flecks of white edged his temples. That was when she knew. As soon as her eyes hit his. Those were the eyes her mother described so many times, so many nights. Her own eyes, vibrant as they danced, beginning to well with tears, “Kyrie.”

“Dad.”


	9. Forging Ahead

Dorian, Iron Bull and Blackwall sat around the small table in the hut’s main open area, sipping at pleasant tea. “Kyrie’s mother was everything to me. A vibrant breath of fresh air in the stone hell gate. When I knew what had happened, that she was with my child, it wasn’t a question. Not one. I had to get her out of there, and make sure there was no way anyone would find them. Even if it meant I might never see them again.”

Kyrie paused, “how did you get here? I mean no offense; you were in the Circle in Ostwick. What made you come all the way out here?” 

“You.” Smiling wide, the light crows’ feet at the edge of his eyes crinkled. “I heard about a Herald of Andraste, reigning from Ostwick and something told me to come. I can’t explain it really.” Letting out a long breath he reached for the pot of tea, offering refills. “I had no way of knowing, but there wasn’t anything tying me down either. I figured if your mother was anything like I remembered she’d have gone to the Conclave, or at least offered aid to this Inquisition.” His face fell, “I heard she never had the chance.” 

“No.” Kyrie drew her bottom lip into her mouth, trying her hardest to control the flood of emotions. “I was at the Conclave by complete chance. Searching for him when everything went wrong. I… I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault child.” Taking her hand in his he flashed her the warmest smile she’d ever seen. “I’m here now, and I want to help. However, I can. I want to join your Inquisition.”

“I would love to have you!” Smiling wide she turned to her companions. “We have one task left to complete here then we are going to return to Skyhold. Can you be ready by nightfall?”

“I shall meet you at your encampment.” Pushing back from the table he went to the door, “best to hurry. I look forward to speaking along the way to Skyhold. We have much to catch up on.” 

“Agreed.” Rising the group left the cabin and returned to their horses. Redcliffe’s inn was no more than a half hour’s ride from the crossroads and the thought of speaking to her father had her pushing. Arriving at the inn she wasn’t entirely sure what to do. “Come in with me, please.” Dorian sheepishly asked her, and she took his hand in hers. “Let’s get through this.” 

Cullen wearily looked up through the large gaping hole in the ceiling. It was a comfort to see the stars twinkling overhead, even if the night air did little to aid in the chills sweeping over his body. Piled under several blankets he shivered again. If only he could sleep, get a moment’s reprieve from the sensations threatening to overwhelm him entirely. But he knew well enough. This was his burden, his atonement for all the terrible things he allowed to happen. That he was part of. Drawing in a ragged breath he threw his arm over his eyes. Soon, all too soon he would have to rise and prepare for the day. 

Kyrie had snuck out, with several of her companions and they had only received word from carrier bird that morning. Redcliffe. Chasing something, or someone, the details were far too little. Reports claimed she was arm and arm with the Tevinter Magister. He couldn’t help the bubble of jealousy that clung in his chest. What could she possibly see in that man? He was arrogant, self-indulged and overly dramatic. Everything he wasn’t. Throwing the blankets back he whipped his legs over the edge, anger rising up, making him hot. Grumbling to himself he collected his gear, trying his best not to let the image of her draped off the man linger. There was an ache inside, one he’d been denying since he saw her in Haven. A longing that he couldn’t remember feeling before. Trying his best to shake it off he slid down his ladder, returned to his desk and began skimming through missives. Something had to distract him. Picking up the top letter his eyes went wide, “Commander Cullen, I do apologize for my brash actions of leaving without speaking to anyone. However, this was a matter of utmost importance and I was concerned for the welfare of my target. I have arrived at Redcliffe, and to my delight I have located my father. He will be returning to Skyhold with us soon. He is a seasoned templar, with much experience and would like to aid in training the recruits. I was certain this was a task he would be suited for and his experience would be an asset to you. His name is Edward Thames. He was a Knight-Captain for several years in Ostwick. We have one stop to make, then we will begin our trek back. Expect from the time of this letter, our return within two days. My father is very excited to meet you. But I shall save that for our arrival. Till we see each other again. Kyrie Trevelyan, Inquisitor.” 

Reading it twice more, he wasn’t entirely sure what to think. Her father was a templar, he somewhat remembered that fact, but he was alive. That was something he hadn’t even thought about. Putting the letter down, he tented his fingers. “Father…” Leaning back in his chair he paused. He’d known many templars in his time in Kirkwall and the name was familiar to him. Unable to remember from where or what his thoughts were disrupted by a knock on his door. “Enter.”

“Good, you are awake.” Leliana smiled as she seemed to float across the floor towards his desk. “I have news about Samson.”

Sitting in her tent, she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. He’d lied to her. More or less. Led her on and allowed her to think there was something more between them. Only to find out he wasn’t interested at all. He’d already apologized, and she’d barely held herself together, only allowing herself to break down when she was in the privacy of her tent. Trying to contain her emotions she focused on calming her breathing, feeling her lungs expand and contract as the air rushed from her nose. After a few moments she managed to gather herself, only to collapse and fall asleep. 

Morning began their journey and she was more than thankful that her father was there. Someone to distract her. And that he was good at. He talked on and on, about her mother, their time in the Circle and finally her escape. She asked him to start from the beginning, and he was more than happy to tell the tale.

“I met your mother by accident, if you could call it that. She was two summers my junior and was tasked with a lesson from the First Enchanter. A simple mind test, learning to manipulate her magic in a way she hadn’t before, but he had worded it in a way to confuse. There she was, her elbows upon the table, eyes glued to the flickering flame of the candle before her, with the saddest face I’d ever seen. Mind you, I had been a templar for a few years before hand. I walked over and asked her if I could help, the hour was late and Ostwick was more relaxed with its rules and curfews. She sighed heavy and repeated the task. To extinguish the flame and relight it without using the fade outside of the flame. What it meant, what I thought it meant, was to pull the flame from the fade itself. And when I told her, she instantly brightened. Maker’s breath, she was beautiful. 

I sat with her in that library for most of the night, before she finally decided to turn in. This went on for weeks, in private, quiet solace, I helped her study for her Harrowing. Some of the older templars cautioned me about my choice but I didn’t care. I couldn’t. I loved her. I think I did from that first moment. We were cautious, taking all the time in the world to get to know one another. We went on for nearly six years before she became pregnant with you. 

That was when the fairy tale came to an end. We could hide it for a time, but the Circle is cruel. We knew what fate awaited us both. It was then I devised the plan. Circles regularly move their phylacteries around. Best to share them between other Circles, to ensure no one gets the idea to steal theirs. I was set to be part of a transfer, and there was precious little time left. Soon your mother would be unable to hide it and they would swoop in. She told me nothing of her plan, and I trusted her. My goal was to break her phylactery and she would do the rest. I had no idea what she had planned, and she no idea what I had planned. We had blind faith in each other.

That day I went to collect them, cradled in my arms, I position hers and a few of the oldest mages in a delicate position. When I went to bring them in, to the Knight Commander, as was routine, we were interrupted. A messenger came rushing in. I was ‘startled’ and dropped the few I had planned. The Knight Commander growled and roared at the incident, while we ‘tried’ to figure out who’s were broken. It was far too late at night to wake the effected mages and that played into our plan perfectly.

To be honest, I do not know how she pulled it off. Nor when. That was part of the plan. I only knew two things. Whenever I was able to follow, I was to look for the hut on the outskirts of a village. In the window, always lit would be a lantern and in the garden a purple flower. Those where what we discussed." After he paused and wet his lips with the skin, Kyrie asked the burning question inside of her, “why didn’t you come look for us?”

“Simple,” he smiled as he handed her back the water. “I couldn’t. You see while I may have fooled my Knight Commander, it did not escape the notice of the First Enchanter. After several days passed, and I continued my routines, I noticed him watching. Always taking notes. Nearly a week passed by before I was dragged before the two of them. I would not confess. Or admit any knowledge of her whereabouts. Which is when life became… difficult.” Leaning back on his horse he paused. “Do you know that templars much imbibe lyrium to perform their tasks?”

“Yes, so I was told.”

“Good. Once you start taking it, you become addicted. It is as vital to you as the air you breathe. Which is why when a templar mis-behaves they take it away.”

“Maker!” She gasped, “they… they tortured you?”

“In a way, yes. But I had something far more important to keep quiet about.” Reach over he took her hand. “I struggled at first, the withdrawal was immense. But over time it grew easier, until I realized I could free myself. I was smart about it, rationing myself down to nothing. I was set to finally leave the order when Kirkwall went to shit. Once again, I was torn between duty and love. I wanted to find you and your mother. Protect you from what was to come, but there were people dying in the streets. And I wasn’t entirely convinced the old bat of a Knight Commander and First Enchanter had given up on me.” Chuckling weakly he hung his head. “I went to Kirkwall, lent aid and when I felt I had done all I could do, I left. Walked away. Set to begin my journey.”

“You were in Kirkwall…”

“Not for long. I barely left when I heard about the Conclave. Whispers of a Herald caught my attention. I knew. Something inside me just knew. By the time I managed to gain passage across the Waking Sea to reach the Fereldan shore, there were reports of demons and rifts. When I made landfall, there was news of an attack on Haven. I thought it best to go to Val Royeux. They were not as helpful as I’d hoped. But an Inquisition scout pointed me to the Crossroads and the need there. I quickly penned down that letter and prayed. Now here we are.” 

Soaking in all the information she was numb. Everything seemed to come at her at once, this war, Corypheus, her companions, Haven and now finding her father, she wasn’t entire sure how to feel about any of it. And there was still Cullen’s words ringing through her head, his unwavering solidity behind her. Why? Had she truly earned the accolades so many were thrusting upon her? It surely didn’t feel like it. Squeezing her father’s hand, she nodded softly, “best to hurry on. I want to get you properly fed and a good set of quarters picked for you.”

“I’d like something overlooking the grounds, if you can.”

“I’m afraid the Commander has already staked that claim. But I might have something overlooking the gardens. If that’s alright.”

“Good man. What’s his name?” 

“Cullen. Cullen Rutherford. He was…”

“Rutherford!” Edward broke out in laughter, “of all the men you could have had you lucked out. That bastard is one of the best.”

“You know him?” 

“I worked with him for a time. Helped him get Kirkwall back up and running. Why?”

“Tell me everything.” 

Edward Thames. He knew that name well. Looking out the slit of a window in his office he smiled. This was a good thing. Edward was a hammer when the room was full of nails. Bonus was that he didn’t act like a hammer. He had a gift Cullen never managed, he could charm his way into and out of nearly anything. There was an ease to how he handled people, how he defused a situation. Running his finger tips over the scar angling the corner of his lip up towards the edge of his nose. That could have been much worse, if it hadn’t been for Edward. 

Hearing the signal horn blast, he immediately began preparing for her arrival. It was mid morning, and he had most of his armor on, only his mantle remained on the back of his chair. Grabbing it and throwing it over his shoulders he tied off his sash before grabbing some letters and pacing down the steps by the tavern. 

Jumping down from her horse, Kyrie paused when Dorian called her name, “no. I’m not ready to speak with you. Not yet.” Pointing her finger at him she glared. “I need time, you have a lot of explaining to do when I’m ready to hear it.” 

“I understand.” Sharply nodding his head, he rushed past her and nearly head long into Cullen, who’d witnessed the entire ordeal. Blinking he paused only to hear his name uttered by an all too familiar voice. “Edward.” Smiling wide he barely had time to turn before the man embraced him, lifting him off the ground before settling him down. “You’ve finally made it out of that mess. About damn time.” 

“Overly due,” Cullen chuckled back as he looked the man over. He was stunned he hadn’t noticed it sooner. Kyrie was very much her father’s daughter, same strong chin, wide eyes and high cheekbones. Even the way she carried herself was very much like Edward. Clearing his throat, he held out his hand, “welcome to the Inquisition Edward Thames, it is an honor and a pleasure.”

“You say that now. Give it a week.” Smirking wide he shook Cullen’s hand. “You’ll forgive me, but food and drink would be appreciated. Is there a kitchen or…?”

“We have a tavern. Allow me to take care of your first meal and drink, old friend.” Cullen smiled before he turned to Kyrie. “Care to join us? I have more than enough coin for your meal as well.” 

“I…” turning to see her father’s bright face she nodded. “Lead the way, Co… Cullen.”


	10. Embers

Dinner and drinks carried on far longer into the evening then either had planned and by the time they were aware of the hour, it was very late. Cullen offered to show Edward to his room and with half sloshed pleasantries they bid each other good night. Cullen walked with Edward down the quiet halls of Skyhold as they made their way to the stairs in the garden. All the way they continued to laugh and chat, discussing casual ideas for training before Cullen pulled out a key and opened the door. Holding the key out he exhaled loudly, “I’m glad to have your hand in this. Its good to have a familiar face standing with you.”

“It is great to be of use. Being with my daughter still seems like a dream. I’m waiting for you to pinch me and make me go dig up another corpse.” Shuddering at the thought he clapped Cullen on the shoulder. “You’re a good man Rutherford. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“I shall have to take your word for it. Rest well Edward, tomorrow is a long day.” Tipping his head to him one last time, Cullen turned and began the long walk back to his tower. He felt a lightness that he hadn’t recalled in years, since before Kinloch. Walking through the quiet corridors he was glad for the warmth blooming through him, the alcohol numbing his discomfort. As he passed through the main hall, and into the rotunda he kept his steps as silent as possible; passing the sleeping elf upon the couch. Pushing through the exterior door his eye caught the light shining from his tower. “Who…” Sighing heavily he plodded over the bridge. Pulling open the door he blinked, “Dorian, why…”

“Please sit.” Dorian motioned towards Cullen’s desk chair as he sat slumped back in his. “I need… I need to speak with you.” 

Cullen came around his desk and instantly he knew Dorian was drunk. Lightly in his hand rested the neck of a demijohn. He wiggled his fingers back and forth, causing the bottle to sway in the air. “Dorian, you…”

“I need to speak with someone, and you are he.” Slowly he brought the bottle up to his lips and took in a few deep gulps. “She respects you, maybe she’ll listen to you.”

“Who are you talking…” Cullen sunk into his chair, his half-addled mind clearing in an instant. “Kyrie.”

“Yes, that darling angel. Have I told you how absolutely wonderful she is? No? Well you see she took me to see someone, some family retainer and…”

“And you got into a fight.”

“No. And in a way yes.” Dorian smirked before he swigged back another mouth full. “You see I made a mistake. I ruined a perfectly good friendship with a reasonably sane lie.” 

“Dorian…”

“Let me finish. I need to finish.” Attempting to sit forward he gave up and maintained his slacked posture. “You southerners are so free with your choices and selves. You can be with just about anyone as long as they aren’t Orlesian.” Cullen snorted when Dorian said that, trying his best to stop the laughter in his chest. “But where I come from, you not only have to look the part, you need to be it. No playing with the same side as it were.” 

“What does this…”

“She, because of me, thought I was interested in her. I should have been up upfront. Told her the truth but perhaps I am stuck in my ways. Used to the make believe.” Running his free hand down his face he let out a forced laugh. “I deserve her ire. I should have thought it would have ended like it did.” 

“Wait.” Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you telling…”

“That as alluring, wonderful and truly impressive as our Inquisitor is, I feel nothing for her. Or any woman.” Bring the bottle to his lips he paused. “Wonderful creatures, just not for me.” 

Cullen could feel the lightness come from his shoulders, even if he didn’t want to admit it. “Dorian, while I appreciate this, it would be best to put the bottle down and get to bed. You will not like yourself come morning, if you continue.” Rising from his seat he came around the desk and held his arm out. “You seem genuine in your regret. Once you have sobered up, perhaps we can speak in earnest.”

“I… I would appreciate that.” Dorian took his arm and pulled himself up into a stand. “I can make it from here. You don’t have to worry.” With a dramatic flick of his wrist he motioned Cullen to move back. “Perhaps, you will remind me what I spoke of tomorrow?”

“I doubt you’ll forget.” Cullen sighed as Dorian managed to smoothly exit his tower. Extinguishing the last of the candles, he dragged himself up the ladder and pulled himself over the edge. Today had been an exhausting day and he was looking forward to laying in his bed. But sleep didn’t come as easily as he thought it would. Laying in bed, staring up at the starry night he growled. Dorian’s words and the weight of them were sink in. She wasn’t with Dorian. Did he have a chance? He’d watched her from what felt like afar, and she continued to impress him. Shaking his head, he tried to clear her from his mind. 

Sitting up he pushed the blankets off and went to his wash basin. Splashing some cold water over his face he sighed. Why couldn’t he shake her. That smiling face from the tavern earlier. How she seemed so relaxed and open. “I’m so glad we got to meet.” He’d watched in quiet pride as Edward took her hands in his and brought them to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to the backs of them. “My dear daughter, it is a miracle. I am more than proud to call you my precious child, and forever blessed to meet you.” Cullen had tried to melt into the background, watching quietly over the lip of his stein to hide the smile he couldn’t wipe from his face. “I apologize Cullen,” Kyrie blushed as she tucked some hair behind her ear. “You have been a wonderful host tonight.”

“He has.” Edward clapped him on the shoulder, “I look forward to spending more time with you. Keeping you on your toes.”

 

“Do you still play?”

“Play what?” Kyrie looked back and forth between Edward and Cullen before Cullen chuckled. “Chess. We’ve played many games in our down time. I miss having an opponent who doesn’t cheat.” 

“Cheat…”

“Yes, Kyrie. Leliana believes herself a comparable player but she does use a fair bit of subterfuge.” Chuckling again he paused. “Do you play?” It had come out so quickly he didn’t even realize he’d said it. Swallowing hard he remembered how her eyes seemed to dance, the corner of her lip quirked up in a sinful grin. “I do. I’m not the greatest but I would enjoy spending some time with you.” How his heart sang. 

Pressing his hand to his chest he closed his eyes, the water still dripping from his face. It was too much to hope for, too much to think of. Grabbing the cloth from the edge of the basin he dabbed at his chin and jaw before carefully placing it back. Returning to his bed he reached underneath. Pulling a large bottle of strong drink, he pulled the cork and drank down a couple mouth fulls. Recorking the bottle, he returned it to its space. Climbing back into bed he could feel the new heat swirl through him and billow down low. Damnit. 

It had been far too long since he’d felt this urge, this need. Worse still it was her voice, her face that was bringing him to it. His hand moved nearly on its own as it traveled down the planes of his abs towards the ties of his sleeping pants. Biting his lip, he wanted to stop, wanted to think of anything else but her. Undoing the thick sinew ties, he groaned when his fingers breached the cloth opening. Just this once he’d allow himself this; just once. No one would know. Gripping himself, long fingers curled around his thick base he moaned as he began to work himself. “Kyrie.” 

Reading over her letters in the morning she sighed heavily. One was marked from Hawke. Her investigation at Crestwood had led her to make journey to the Western Approach. Where her Warden ally believed a nefarious plot was hatching. She requested for the Inquisitor and a small party to join them at a location marked as an old Tevinter ritual site. Chewing it over she nearly jumped out of her seat when Dorian came up the steps, “I…”

“Please, let me apologize.” Dorian cleared her throat as he shielded his eyes from the steady rays pouring in through the stain glass. “I may have had a bit to drink last night and the light seems to be adding to my punishment.”

Kyrie let the air whoosh through her nostrils before she nodded and waved to the bed. “Sit on the bed, it’s out of the light.”

“A thousand thank yous.” Dorian weakly smiled as he sat down, in the complete shadow. “I want to say I should have been kinder to you. I should have never led you to believe that I was interested. It was entirely wrong of me and I want to apologize.” Resting his elbows upon his knees he locked eyes with her. “In my country, what I am is… an abomination. It is the highest insult to be what I am and the biggest kept secret. I… I think you are an incredible woman. Absolutely spectacular and all that but not for me. I hope you don’t see yourself as less because of this and I pray you can forgive me.” 

“Dorian.” Kyrie rubbed at her temples, trying to maintain as calm a demeanor as she could. “I… I have had a few days to calm and think. I can understand it from your side, the need to behave in a way to keep your secret safe. I can forgive you of that. I also understand you did not know me well in the beginning. Did not know what was safe or not, so behaved in a manner best suited to protect yourself, and I can forgive that. What I am mad about is that you took the moment to announce yourself in the midst of a fight with your father. Throwing me in the center of your feud. It was uncalled for and we could have spoken afterwards. Yet still, I understand the heat of the moment, the need to push against him, your heightened emotions. So yet again, I forgive you. I only ask one thing.”

“Name it. Anything. I swear I’ll…”

“Never lie to me again.” Choking it down she cleared the lump from her throat. “It is rare to find someone that you can get along with for extended periods of time. Rarer still when you share so much in common. I… I cherish our time together, even if it is as friends only.”

“Cousins, actually.” Dorian smirked. “I did a bit of research. It seems, although distant, that the Trevelyan line is related to the Pavus line. Cousins. I think I like that.” 

“Cousins.” Kyrie pushed her chair back and rose, “I like it. And in honor of my new found cousin, I request he collect his travelling gear. We are heading to the Western Approach.” Smiling wide she chuckled. “Hawke believes she’s discovered an answer, and I’ve been called to action. I dare not go alone and since my dear, beloved cousin so wishes my time, then he can accompany me on the road.”

“You are cruel,” Dorian sighed dramatically as he struggled to rise. “But it is only fair after what I did. Can I ask for one, small favor?”

“Absolutely.”

“Cure this ale illness, would you? And I can be ready to leave within the hour.” 

Cullen blinked several times as he read the letter over. “You’re telling me that the Wardens are summoning demons in the Western Approach.” 

“It appears as thus; my scouts confirmed the Inquisitor’s encounter.” Leliana pinched at the bridge of her nose, clearly upset. “I cannot understand how a proud and honorable group of men and women could believe this was the best option.”

“They were led to believe this would end the threat of the blight. Even if it weren’t foolhardy, I can understand the fear. They believe they are the only ones who can end it. Without them, hope would be lost.” Josephine laid her writing board upon the war room table. “I can contact several nobles who have pledged their aid.”

“Trebuchets.” Cullen nodded as he pointed to three locations on the laid-out map of Adamant. “If we weaken the walls here, here and here we can breach into the center of the fortress. It was built before siege equipment and I will wager the walls won’t withstand a full assault. We will lose many but if we can get Kyrie and her people in close to the main court, we can limit loss.” Tapping his chin, he nodded, “we’ll need to be prepared for mages, Wardens and demons alike. It will not be an easy battle.”

“If we fail, Corypheus will sweep his demon army across Fereldan and Orlais. We have little choice.” Leliana nodded and motioned for Josephine, “we must be prepared.” 

Kyrie shivered as she huddled next to the fire, “the days are hot, and the nights are freezing. I will never understand why anyone came out here.”

“I agree.” Blackwall chuckled as he plunked down next to her and handed her a bowl of fresh steaming stew. “But it is best you keep your spirits up, my lady.”

“You are too kind.” Taking the bowl, she breathed in deep, “you are a fantastic cook Blackwall. A blessing to have on this journey. I do hope you are fairing well. From what Warden Stroud has said it has been a struggle to resist the Calling.” 

“I am managing. The company has been of great assistance.” Placing his hand upon her knee he gave it a pat. “You have been my sincerest aid in these trying times.” 

“I try.” Kyrie blushed deeply, trying her best to hide it behind the bowl of stew. “Please, eat, we need our strength. We have much to scout out ahead and soon the Inquisition’s forces will arrive, and we can begin the final assault.” Her face fell at the words. “I am sorry. You will be forced to cut down people you may know. If you don’t wish to…”

“I will be at your side, my lady. My blade is yours. If they chose to raise it against you, I will cut them down. Without hesitation.” It was the same conviction in his eyes and voice as Cullen had. Her heart fluttered and she had to force the spoon to her lips to stop from saying something foolish. The Warden was an easy ten summers her senior, but when she looked into his steely grey eyes she melted. “I want to take another look about the area. There were some Varghest plodding about. They’re rather fond of live prey.” Rising he rolled his shoulders, “you should rest. We need you at your best.”

“I will.” Smiling widely, she watched him leave, slipping off behind the row of tents. Dorian replaced him in a breath, “so you and the brute hmm?”

“What? No!” Half choking on her stew she fanned her face. “I have chosen no one.”

“Yes, well your eyes say otherwise when you are gazing at the man.” Dorian huffed. “Forgive me but I just don’t see it. Him. You. Not a good fit.”

“Perhaps.” Shrugging she finished the last few bites from her bowl. “Right now, I am only concerned with staying alive. We are going to be ass deep in demons, possessed Wardens and Maker knows what else soon enough.” Sighing heavily, she placed her bowl by her feet before wrapping her arms around herself. “Besides, I can’t invest something I can’t commit to. My life is a question mark. I could die at any time and there are more than enough people trying to make that happen.” 

“My darling we could all face the same fate. You shouldn’t limit yourself because of it. If anything, enjoy the time you have. Be it hours or years. I’m leaning more towards years.” Dorian wrapped an arm around her, cozying in tight. “Just be careful who you give yourself to. There are good men and there are bad ones. Some look like the other and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

“I shall endeavour to try.” 

“Good. Now, lets get you to bed. It will be day break far sooner than you wish it to be. Cullen sent word ahead. Our army is moving faster than expected. They should be here by mid day tomorrow. If I know the Commander, he’ll wish to start the march after they rest. A night attack would provide more cover for our people.” 

“You’re right.” Kyrie snorted, “he’ll push as hard as he can. Alright,” rising from her spot she leaned down to press a kiss to Dorian’s forehead. “Get some rest yourself. I need you at your best too.”

“Always,” Dorian smiled back and watched her as she slipped into her tent. Out of the shadows Hawke shook her head, Varric beside her, “if this whole thing goes sideways. When this whole thing goes sideways, I hope we can all stay as level as they are now.”

“Hawke, we’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen? We all get sucked into the Fade?” Varric laughed as he passed her the wine skin. “Come on, first rounds on me. Diamond back?”

“Just like old times.”


	11. Watered Down

Cullen sliced through another demon, sweat clung to his back in a thick coat, forcing his tunic to stick to him. The fighting had carried on for over an hour and casualties were starting to pile up. Only Warden Blackwall’s impassioned speech seemed to have cut the numbers of dying down. Kyrie and her team had fought to the courtyard where they encountered the Magister responsible for everything. One of Corypheus’s minions. Cullen had heard the roar of the dragon, watched as her group chased after the Magister and the Warden Commander. After that, he lost track of everything, doing his best to fight against the remaining enchanted mages. When he finally caught a moment, he heard the word spread down the line, “the Inquisitor and her people tumbled from the far wall into a rift.”

In that instant the air rushed from his lungs. She was were he could not follow; he could not lend aid. Pacing back and forth he began going through the casualties, through the prisoner count and trying to rally the remaining forces. Making his way to the main courtyard he saw the shimmering scar of the rift Clarel had tried to open, the one meant to pour demons forth and ensure an easy victory against any foe. It felt strange being near it. Similar to the Breach but much more intense. “Ser, what do we do?”

“There is hope. The Inquisitor can control rifts. If she fell into one, she may be able to get out of one. We need to…” He could feel it, like static electricity being poured over his whole body. Pushing the man away from the rift he felt the rush of air as it snapped open. Out came Dorian, followed by Bull, Varric and Hawke. “Come on…” he gritted it out, seeing the image of a massive creature glisten in the mist. “Maker….”

“Get back!” Kyrie shouted as she tumbled through, soaked from head to shoe in crimson. Raising her hand, the mark snapped the rift closed, dissolving it instantly. Bracing her hands upon her knees and gasping for air she closed her eyes, trying to take a moment to wrap her head around all that had happened. “Inquisitor…,” Cullen’s voice was soft, tender and for a moment she wanted to believe but instead she rose to her full height. “Grey Wardens,” swallowing hard she gazed over the crowd, to her equally gored companions. “What has happened here today was an act of hubris. Believing yourself better and more knowledgeable than all of Thedas. The best of you, a man name Stroud, gave his life to ensure this never happens again.”

“Inquis…”

“You will aid in making things right. You will repay what you have wrought.” Kyrie glared down the few men and women about her. “We, the Inquisition will watch over you until such a time where you can be trusted.” Stepping down from her platform she walked over to Hawke. Reaching her hand out she was met with a firm grip, “what are your plans Hawke? It seemed clear in there that you wish more than an end to this.”

“I will head to Weishaupt. There’s much to answer for and I plan to ensure Stroud’s death wasn’t in vain. Take care of Varric for me.” With a weak smile Hawke nodded, “and take care of Curly too.” Releasing her grip, Hawke slipped past the rows of people and into the night. 

Kyrie didn’t even look back. Her memory was clear, there was a steam not far from where they were, and she wanted to bathe. Nothing would stop her, not after everything she’d seen and heard. How the demon taunted, teased and tormented them all. Faked the calling to draw in the Wardens and condemn them all to their doom. Trudging off she didn’t listen to anyone calling her name, only the terrible scent of iron rose to her senses and she needed to get rid of it. Burn it if she could. 

Seeing the pool of water, she stripped down, as each piece of fabric left her fingers, she burned it away. There was nothing to redeem in her eyes, no way of looking at it without the horrors of the Fade. Dipping her toe into the water she was thankful it was warm, nearly as warm as the temperature of the day hours. Sinking in up to her neck she dipped her head down to try to rinse the gore from her completely. When she same to the surface and wiped the water from her face she noticed someone coming towards her. Not caring she was glad for the water, the empty, lifeless pocket in the dessert. 

“My lady,” Blackwall paused looking about the edge of the water. “Where are your clothes?”

“I burnt them away.” Kyrie let out a hollow chuckle. “I didn’t want to see them again.” 

Blackwall seemed to chew the words she’d spoken over for a moment before he began to remove his tarnished armor. When he got down to his clothes he smirked. “Heavy armor takes most of the mess. And you can’t stay in that puddle all night.” Taking his jacket off, he pulled his tunic over his head, exposing his bare chest. “It may not be the nicest dress you’ve ever worn but it will serve it’s purpose.” Shaking it out he tossed it over a deathroot plant. “I’d let it air out a bit.” Quietly he took his place beside the water’s edge. Unwrapping a section of clothe from his waist band he swished it about in the water before he began tending to his armor. Washing away the gore and cleaning out the groves before setting the piece aside to work on the next. 

They stayed in silence for a time. She needed it. Quiet companionship, someone to focus on to prevent the mind from traveling down a path of depression. Stroud had been lost, and while she did not know him, she took the loss the same. How many had died in the assault? How many more were injured or in need of healing? She remembered most of the men and women of Skyhold. Pausing by messengers to say good morning, ask about their family or something they had shared. How many had she lost? Sinking into the water up to her neck she struggled to hold back the tears. “It won’t do any good.” Blackwall’s voice was calm, that deep hum that he reserved for more personal talks. “They gave their lives to save many more. The world if you think about it. Better to die for a cause then for some pompous mutt with dreams of grandeur.”

Kyrie chuckled, “mutts? Not a very Fereldan view of thing.”

“I’m not from Fereldan. I’m a Marcher.” Blackwall smirked wide. “Never did tolerate the riff raff that was the royal born. Damn mutts, all of them. But they still have teeth.” Wiping clean his blade he sheathed it. “Never did like their kind.”

“Interesting.” Kyrie sighed as she swished her hands back and forth in the water. “I think it’s time to get out and get some sleep. If I can.” Before she could utter a word, Blackwall turned his back, giving her the time to get out. “My lady, may I walk you back to the camp? The night is dark, and you are not proper.” He remained facing away from her as she rose from the water, using a bit of magic to dry herself before she slipped his shirt over her head. It was like a sleeping gown, the sleeves far too long and the waist hitting her well below the knees. She let out a giggle as she struggled to roll the cuffs up enough to see her hands. “My lady?”

“It’s a bit big. You may turn.” 

Blackwall took in a deep breath before he turned, only to let out a choking belly laugh, “forgive me, my lady. It appears you are drowning in that shirt.” Biting his bottom lip, he quickly cleared his throat. “Shall we?” Extending his arm out to her, she looped it in his. Walking in silence he guided her down the rows of tents towards the one specially ear marked for her and her closest companions. “My lady, if you have need of me, I shall not be far.” Taking her hand in his, Blackwall pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Rest well.”

“I shall try.” Blushing she quickly darted into her tent. Taking in a few deep breaths she riffled through her bags searching for some spare clothes she’d pack. Changing she settled into her bedroll. There was a lot floating about in her mind and now more than ever she had to think. She wasn’t the chosen vessel of Andraste, and they didn’t bother her one bit. It made things easier knowing it was her attempt to stop him the first time that granted her this strange gift. Laying on her back she held her marked hand up, running her finger along the pulsing seam. It didn’t hurt, hadn’t for some time now but it always seemed to glow. Like a second heart beat opposite her own. As she’d travelled and sealed tear after tear, she felt like she was beginning to understand it. To make sense of its random ability to control the magic of the veil. 

Feeling a wave of exhaustion begin to wash over her she tried to cuddle up. Tried to forget Stroud’s face as she closed her eyes, the image of the nightmare creature’s terrors skittering about. Grotesque, miss-shapened horrors with eight needle-like legs. Shuttering she tried to remember something more pleasant. How the water felt so warm against her skin, the gentle lapping a she bobbed about. How Blackwall removed his shirt. His chest firm and covered in a thick, black moss of hair that trailed low. Groaning she couldn’t help the burning sensation flood through her. There were many things that could be said about Blackwall. How he was gruff, not used to traveling with companions or how he was quick with a joke. But the thing that struck her the most was his an in dominatable force. A mountain of a man, a human ballista upon the field with stamina to burn. With his face and shirtless chest in her mind’s eye she slipped into sleep.

Cullen had seen some of it, not all. Catching Blackwall escort, her to her tent in his shirt, himself topless. Gritting his jaw, he closed his eyes, why? Why was he always destined to this cruel fate? Like Surana, and Hawke. Always to feel for someone from a distance, to never have it returned. Tears came, hot and thick as he tried to bury the image, only to be replaced by her smiling face in the tavern. “I’d like to spend more time with you. Perhaps a game once we return?”

“I would like that,” he had said. Now he was questioning everything. Pacing up and down the rows of tents he was seething. Feeling an unexplainable urge to fight, to scream, to beat his chest and make her his. “Lyrium.” He growled as he rubbed at his temples. He’d noticed it early on, while on his way to Haven from Kirkwall. Upon the boat, as the waves crashed back and forth Cassandra had bore the brunt of another’s sea rage. Instantly he was at the man, clutching his collar in his hand, “you will leave her alone.” 

“Cullen.” Cassandra placed her hand upon his shoulder. “I can handle myself.”

“Right.” Dropping the man, he rushed away to his cabin, even the confined space welcome to the feeling rushing through him then. Thinking back on it now he knew well enough what that was. Cassandra had mentioned it, some arcane knowledge the Seekers held. “You will experience numbing and cold across your hands and feet. Night sweats, nightmares and feelings of a possessive nature. I can offer you little aid.”

“Knowing is enough.” He repeated it as he drew in a few breaths and headed to his tent. Stripping down he climbed under the covers, his toes long since numb. Everything was getting worse and now he was beginning to question his abilities. Could he continue to function with the new sensations coming in more intense as the days go by? Feeling his eye lids grow heavy he knew sleep wasn’t far. “Maker please,” he muttered before he slipped into dreams. 

Nightmares plagued her sleep and all she wanted was to be back at Skyhold. Safe within the stone walls. Rising she bundled whatever she could, mind set on leaving, when she ran smack faced into Blackwall. “My lady are you… leaving?” 

“I… I need to get back to Skyhold. Pressing matters, nothing more.”

“Let me speak with the Commander. I’m certain…”

“No! No that’s quite alright. I… Take me home.” Biting the inside of her cheek she was struggling to keep the tears at bay. Blackwall wrapped her up in his arms, “if that’s what you wish, I will take you. You should not be alone.” Pulling her back, his hands upon her shoulder he waited, his eyes locked with hers. “Allow me to ready a horse and my pack. We will leave immediately. You only need say the word.” 

“Please.” She barely choked it out. Blackwall gave a quick squeeze of her shoulder before he turned and raced off. In turn her legs gave out, crumpling her into a ball upon the ground. He ran straight for his tent, flagging the first scout down he could find. “I have an urge message for the Commander. The Inquisitor is leaving to Skyhold. I will be by her side. We will send word upon our safe arrival. Make leave as soon as you can to follow.” 

“Yes, Ser!” Saluting quickly the agent fled into the tents, lost to the night. Blackwall didn’t care, he had a task to preform. To keep her safe and get her to Skyhold. One man could help, her father. Luckily for him he’d learned long ago to pack lightly with the ability to up and leave at a moment’s notice. Slinging his pack over his shoulder he made a bee line for the horses. Saddling one horse he returned to where he’d left her, finding her curled up, knees to her chest upon the ground. Not uttering a word, he packed her items onto the rear of the horse with his own. Tying everything off he took her arm, “come on. We’ll be there soon, I promise.” 

She didn’t utter another word, not for the first leg of the journey, not till they returned to the beaten path. Not till the trees surrounded them and the ground was no longer a pale sand. Even then her words were few, her tears many. Inside the Fade she’d endured her deepest fears, a nightmare made physical and inside something felt broken. When they finally arrived back at the gates of Skyhold she felt comfortable enough to speak. As their horse plodded up the cobbled path, she explained what she’d seen. Each tiny personal terror, how Stroud’s death plagued her and the how she felt each loss. Blackwall in turn quietly listened, never interrupting her as she went on, her tears heavy as she let it all out. Upon their arrive he hopped down from the horse, uttered only one name to the scout and then turned his full attention to her. “My lady, it may be best for you to seek your quarters. The quiet there may be preferable. I will visit once I have sent word.”

“Thank you.” Sighing heavily, she clutched at the long cloak and with her head down paced to her quarters. 

Slowly she strolled, her hands in her pockets as she made her way through the main courtyard and towards the double doors of the hall leading to her quarters. No one seemed to notice her or perhaps they’d been instructed not to. “Blackwall,” she mused as she reached her door. Pulling it wide she could smell fresh stew, similar to what her mother made. Quickening her steps, she nearly choked out the words, “father.”

“Its probably not as good as your mother’s but I tried.”


	12. Blow Across the Coals

Cullen glowered the entire trek back, the ache increasing while his anger bubbled. There would be much to do once they arrived back and with the extensive wounded party, they carried their speed was reduced. By the time he reached the gates of Skyhold he was fully ready to lay into the Inquisitor, tear a strip off her for abandoning their men, not taking the shared trek back. Storming the steps to the main hall he was caught by a frantic messenger, “Commander, Commander!”

“What is it.”

“The Inquisitor left but two days ago. Urgent news from the Emerald Graves. Sister Leliana wishes to explain in the rookery.”

Chewing his anger down he bobbed his head sharply before altering his course towards the crow’s nests at the apex of the rotunda. Ascending the spiraling staircase his temper mellowed as he looked over to see Dorian perched upon his chair, skimming through a book, another open beside him, quill in hand. “Commander, chess this afternoon?” 

“If I can manage the time.” Cullen smiled as he continued his pace. Reaching the darkened area delegated to hold the carrier birds he easily spotted Leliana, sitting at a long table, her quill bobbing rapidly as she penned out another of her coded messages. Before he could utter a word, she stopped, the sudden sharp motion jarring him, “good. I was hoping you would come straight away.”

“Yes.” Cullen was still guarded around the ginger hair, ashened faced woman. He had only met her twice before Haven. Once in Kinloch, the memory still a blurred recollection. All but her fiery hair and the snow white of her skin etching her into his mind. His second time was at Kirkwall, before the explosion. She’d come, as a messenger of the Divine. Asking his opinions. On the mages, on the city, on Hawke and most importantly on Meredith. He had spoken only truth to her. Plain and emotionless. By that time his disillusion was already beginning to sink in, deep under his skin. When he met her as Haven, she seemed heavier. Someone who had seen much, been through even more. Even if her skin bore none of the stress and hardship, her eyes held it. “I have important information. We have a small lead on Samson. When I spoke to the Inquisitor, she seemed eager to set out. She wished me to give you this.” Pulling a scroll from up her sleeve she grinned. “The journey will be a long one, she will return just in time for the Winter Ball. We have gone over everything we need. Do you have time to speak?”

“Please.” Taking the scroll, he came around her desk, pulled the chair out he sat and eagerly awaited whatever she had to say. Keen to memorize every detail. Leliana explained how a noisy Orlesian noble was poking about in the summering homes of the elites out in the Emerald Graves when she thought she witnessed a red templar. A scout in the area confirmed there was Venatori presence. “We lost Scriver.” Growling under her breath she instantly regained her composure. “This led to my belief there was more going on in the Graves then believed. Inquisitor Trevelyan wished to investigate.”

“So, she rode off, immediately.” Pausing he ran his fingers down the scroll. “Thank you for the information but what…”

We believe they are smuggling red lyrium shipments through the Graves. Where, we do not yet know. The Inquisitor is charged with locating supply caches and interrupting deals. All papers will be sent back to Skyhold. We can summarize from there, where they could be.” Pushing several letters towards him she grinned, “I have no doubt she will succeed. In the interim we have much to plan in the ways of the Winter Ball. After you rest and tend to your belly. I believe I have heard it roar thrice now.” Smiling sweetly, she let out a chuckle. “The kitchens were made aware of your arrival and have prepared a hot meal. Best to make haste before there is none left.”

Cullen knew it was time to take his leave. Collecting his small stack of papers, he returned the way he came, only diverting to drop the letters in his office before making a rush to the kitchen. Leliana was right, his stomach growled loudly, eating away at itself. There, her usual jolly self, the cook held out a cloche covered tray, “take it to your quarter Ser. There be a treat under only for you.” Thanking her he reached into his pocket and drew out a couple silver. “Much thanks,” he sighed as he placed them before her and returned to his tower. 

Settling into his meal he chuckled at the fist sized section of honey cake. As he dug into the rest of the meal he caught up with his messages, saving the scroll for last. By the time he got to his honey cake he was toying with the bright red ribbon tied about her scroll. Letting out a puff of air he untied it. Setting it aside neatly he rolled it flat upon the table before he began to read.

“Cullen,

I’ve written and re-written this letter at least four times now. I wanted to apologize for abandoning the men and women of the Inquisition, and in essence you. There were things I’d witnessed and endured in the Fade physical I cannot even bare to think about. At the time it overwhelmed my senses and the urge to run overcame me. Upon my return to Skyhold my father has been my saving grace. I did not know he wasn’t part of the siege and that you personally requested he remain back to train the recruits. It has meant the world to me that he was spared the horrors I witnessed. That you witnessed. When I return, I wish to par-take in a game of chess. I am not the best and have little understanding of the game but my father’s few days with me have been a blessing. Playing the strategy game. If you could further instruct me, I would be thankful. I think my fears are unfounded. Maybe it is too early to tell but I wish to know the truth. I ramble. There is much to say in person, let me leave it at that. Word will reach you soon enough, that I promise. Samson and his poison lyrium will not evade us forever. I promise you that. Yours, Inquisitor Kyrie Trevelyan.” 

Blinking a few times, he paused, ran his hand down his face and read it again. Then one more time. Grabbing his skin of water, he drained nearly half of it before he paused again. “She… apologized.” It was a moment he was beyond confused. What did this letter mean? What did the last bit mean? “To know the truth?” muttering the words he closed his eyes. “Edward.” There was someone he needed to speak to, possibly. Reaching for the sweet, sticky cake he smiled. But first there was something a little more pressing; his sweet tooth. One thing that he thought he’d managed to keep under wrap; his affinity for sweet baked goods. He never asked for them, but somehow the aged cook of Skyhold had discovered his addiction and was more than content to supply him. Afterall this addiction wasn’t life threatening. Licking his fingers, he sighed in contentment. Come morning he would be sure to speak with Edward.

Edward laughed as he countered the lazy swipe by the hung-over recruit, “do you think an enemy of the Inquisition would care about the state of your head?” Slapping the blade away he chuckled as the poor men’s momentum carried him with it. “Maker you are a sad sop.” Stabbing the tip of the practice blade into the ground he leaned on the hilt, turning his attention to the gathered crowd and group of recruits. “Hear my words. They are the same words my sword master told me when I first learned to wield a blade. If you fly with the owls in the night, you must be prepared to hunt with the eagles in the weary hours light. Keep these words in your heart as you continue your training. No foe cares about your condition, your state of mind or lack of skill. He is there to carry out his orders. Be they vile or righteous. Your task is a simple one; survive. Win the day and thus the campaign. Everyone, pair up and run through your drills.” With practiced ease he pulled the sword up and returned it to the rack in a fluid motion that had a few female watchers swooning. Hearing the sharp whispers begin he turned to see Cullen jogging over, still in his warmup tunic. “Good morning Commander. How far today?”

“Not as far as I’d like, but it will serve for now.” Letting out a long-controlled breath he managed to get his breathing under control. “If you have a moment, I wish to go over the training reports.”

“Of course, lead the way,” Edward swept his hand forwarding, motioning towards Cullen’s office. Edward had caught it, the sallow tint to Cullen’s face, the darkening rim about his eyes; lyrium withdrawal. Kyrie had mentioned it, noted she wished him to intervene, to give Cullen the strength to continue if he showed signs of faltering. She’d spoken at some length to it when she returned from Adamant. “To think all these Grey Warden’s under the control of Corypheus. Who could do that to someone?”

“The Chantry does it all the time dear,” Edward had stated it flatly as he set the board game out and poured them each a cup of tea. “They force their templars to drink lyrium knowing full well it’s effect, then they threaten to take it away if they misbehave. Many have suffered the brutal torture of resisting; few have broken free. Corypheus just exploited the Grey Wardens for his own purposes and those are vile. The Chantry would have you believe they do it for the well being of all of Thedas. All non-mages that is.” 

“Promise me something,” she’d wrung the edge of her shirt in her hands, back and forth, her knuckles flashed white before she released the pressure. “Don’t let Cullen do it. Don’t let him give up. I… Please, you understand what he’s going through.”

“I promise.” 

Taking a seat across from Cullen he waited patiently, as Cullen settled across from him. “You have handled training the recruits well. I have read their progress has exceeded my expectations.” Exhaling long and slow Cullen leaned upon his elbows, “I need to ask of you a favor. I… I cannot focus as I should, and I need someone to take my place. Normally I would leave it to Cassandra, but I know you. I know how you work, and I want the Inquisitor to have the best people working for her. I…”

“No.” Edward smiled widely as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “She has the best. You.” Holding his hand up in a flash he shook his head, “the withdrawal will pass. You must be close to the apex of it. Which seems daunting I know but…”

“What? How?” 

“Kyrie. Now before you start gasping and blubbering let me speak.” Edward motioned for him to remain seated. “She was worried you might not make it. Something about you had her concerned you would look to quit. Something she made me promise to stop.” Still wearing a bright smile, he continued, explaining how he himself had endured and over came lyrium withdrawal. As he spoke Cullen’s eyes grew wide, “Maker.” 

“It won’t be easy, but I feel you are more than likely near the worst of it. From there, you will notice a steady decline. Your worst symptoms will take at least a week to peter out. From there, you will begin to feel much better.” Letting out a long sigh, Edward leaned forward, pressing his elbows into the firm muscle above his knees. “I have been through it. You are young, full of life and stubborn as the Maker intended. You can do this Cullen. I have faith in you, more importantly Kyrie does.” Locking his eyes with Cullen he caught his eyes flick down to his desk. “Open the drawer.” Without a word Cullen complied, with shaking hands he pulled out the small worn box. “First things first, that needs to go. Hanging on to that is only going to make this harder. Temptation is something you don’t want to risk or need. Here, pass it to me.” 

Cullen took another long look at the box, flipping it open to see the image of the blessed Andraste. “Edward…”

“Follow me.” Edward reached across and swiped the box. “Trust me.” Pushing himself off the chair he went to the side door. Quickly peeking out he saw no sign of anyone about. Hearing Cullen’s chair scrape off the floor he stepped out into the cool midday air. Walking over to the palisade he leaned over, “beautiful view. I’ll never get over it.”

“You’ve brought me out here for a reason Edward, please.” Cullen was barely holding himself together, the need burning his throat, making his skin itch and crawl. Edward faced him, box in hand, “toss it. As hard as you can as far as you can. Right over the edge. Let go of the last chain to this cursed existence.” Half pushing the box into Cullen’s hand he patted him on the shoulder. “Let it all go. For the Inquisition if you need reason, for me if you need faith, for Kyrie if you need…”

“I… thank you.” Cullen had in his head what he wanted to hear; he couldn’t bare it be anything else. Closing his eyes, he uttered a few words, low and somber under his breath before he wound his arm up, pulling it back and letting the box soar as far as he could. Watching it tumble, the contents burst out and scatter he felt an odd sense of relief wash over him. Pressing his bare palms into the stone he swallowed hard, the cool air filling his nose and burning his throat. “I…”

“Take the rest of the day off. At the least. Send word for me if you need anything. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve yet. Come on,” patting him again on the shoulder Edward led him back towards the tower. “This is the beginning of your freedom.” 

Kyrie rifled through the bag, the same sour look on her face. “Hey Embers,” Varric grinned as he came up alongside of her. “I might be able to read that.”

“You’re a code breaker now?” She huffed as she began to neatly place them with the others in her satchel. “No, but the Merchant’s Guild sends out new ciphers every other week. Paranoia mainly. I’ve seen more than my fair share of coded messages. Can’t hurt to take a peek, can it?”

“When we stop for the night.” Kyrie sighed dusting off her hands. “I think we’ve learned all we can. With the Winter Ball being so close, we should probably head back. Josephine will have my rear if I’m not properly fitted for the event.” Grumbling she turned to her group. “Anyone not in favour of joining me?”

“I’m not a fan of nobility.” Blackwall gritted, “but if you have need of me, say the word.”

“A Qunari in the Winter palace might be quite the show.” Bull grinned. “I’m in.” 

Varric waved his hand, “before we get to that point we need to get to camp. We’ve got a long trek back.” Turning and loading his crossbow over his shoulder he waved them to their horses. “Not much light left.” Quickly they all followed along the path towards their campsite. Inquisition agents paced back and forth keeping their eyes glued to the perimeter.

Settling in for the evening, Kyrie handed the stack of papers to Varric. “Let me know if you find anything.”

“Of course, Embers. Wouldn’t dream of keeping you in the dark.” Winking he strolled towards a larger tent, a flickering light coming from within. Kyrie sat upon the log next to the fire, warming her hands over the flames she huffed. It had been a long journey, and she’d learned precious little about anything. With the coded pages she felt even further frustrated. Varric confirmed her worse suspicions. Sending them via carrying bird would be a terrible plan. Were the enemy to shoot it down we would lose valuable information. No, she needed to deliver them by hand. 

Fiddling with the twigs she’d collected she lit each one, letting it burn down to her scarred fingertips before tossing it into the fire. “How are you hanging in there boss? Been a rough go lately.” Bull was quiet as she eased himself down beside her. “Your mind isn’t where it usually is. I’m guessing you’re still thinking about Adamant or…”

“Both.” Sighing heavily, she shrugged. “I worry that I will make a mistake that I can’t fix. It’s not just my life in my hands anymore. It’s many lives. Too many lives.” Turning her gaze to meet his good eye she shook her head, “and some days I’m not entirely sure I’ve got it right.”

“That’s the best way to think of things.” Bull smiled wide as he reached for a wine skin. “Those who don’t worry about their choices don’t usually make the best ones. You have people in mind, and that will help you make the right call.” Placing his large hand on her shoulder he chuckled, “but I get the feeling it isn’t just the choices you’re thinking about.” 

Chewing her bottom lip, she turned her head away, “you cheat.”

“Not intentionally. But I can tell it’s weighing on you. Care to lighten the load?” Passing her the skin he held it out, waiting for her answer. “Maybe a little.” Taking it, she drank down a few mouth fulls, the burn a welcome sensation. “I am lost.”

“That much was easy to guess, go a little deeper.” Bull leaned forward, his massive upper half coming to rest on his thighs, “you’ve been like this since the incident with Dorian.”

“I… was hoping things would be different. I was wrong. It’s fine.” Swallowing another mouth full she shook her head. “I want to be more careful about my, selections.”

“Then let me give you some advice,” again keeping his voice low he paused. “I can see your interests, and you are aware of my skills. One of your choices is hiding who he was or is. The other is trying to make amends for who he was. Be careful.”

“Maker, you’re nearly as cryptic as Cole. But I… I think I follow.” Kyrie continued to twist the burning stick in her fingers, letting the heat from the embers get nearly unbearable before extinguishing it. “But what do you think? I mean, as a professional. If you grasp my leaning.”

“I follow.” Bull smirked wide as he levelled his gaze towards the older gentleman, Blackwall who was sitting off to the side working a wet stone against the edge of his blade. “He’s not who he claims to be, but it’s who he wants to be. He’s hiding from something, I can’t say what, but his intentions seem genuine. If you’re asking my personal opinion, I’d trust him to have my best interests at heart, but I wouldn’t take my eye off him.” Tossing several branches into the flame he let out a huff, “now, Cullen…”

“Is he… Does he hate mages?” 

“No.” Bull’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as he brought the wine skin back up for another mouth full. “He cares too much to hate.” He paused, watching her reaction intently before continuing. “Whatever occurred is in his past and he seems to be trying to atone for it. He’s more transparent then him.” Catching a drop at the edge of the mouthpiece he finished. “But it’s what you want that matters.” 

“I… How… damnit.” Kyrie tossed another stick into the flames, “I’m a mage Bull. He is a templar. What does that mean?”

Brushing the dust from his pants he leaned back sharply, “ask your father if it mattered. Then, ask him.” Rising he turned, “see you at supper boss.”


	13. Fever

Cullen hung his head over the palisades, letting the contents of his stomach out before slipping down the wall, “I… I can’t…”

“You can.” Edward pushed the skin of water into his hands. “This is the hard part. It’ll be over soon. I promise I will not leave your side.” Wrapping his arm around Cullen he half dragged him to a stand, “however your quarters aren’t adequate for what we need.” Thinking quickly, he decided his next move. “Come along now. I’ve got a plan.” There wasn’t any way Cullen was going to protest, he could barely walk and was only glad for the lateness of the hour. Above them a full canopy of sparkling stars glittered, a sliver of a moon offering poor light as they traversed the courtyard towards the main hall doors. 

They darted about till they reached their target; one Cullen had lost track of. Edward had whisked him inside, that much he was aware of as the cool air was replaced by warmth. Mumbling something under his breath he was reassured this was the best option. Traipsing up two flights of stairs he was led to a bed. “Strip down to whatever is comfortable, I’ll stoke the fire.” 

Incoherently he uttered something again as he tugged his shirt over his head, the relief overwhelming him. Everything ached and his skin was sensitive. Far too sensitive, as if the shirt were made of sun-dried straw. Slumping down onto the bed he groaned, it was soft, blissfully soft. Softer than anything he’d laid in for some time. Kicking his boots off he dragged himself to the pillow, a soft scent that seemed to surround him made him giggle. “What’s so funny Rutherford?” Edward smirked as Cullen laid upon his back. “Nothing Edward, you would more than likely stab me were I to admit it.”

“Admit what?” Edward couldn’t help the wide grin over his lips. “That you fancy my daughter? Maker, you can’t hide anything from me.”

“Maferath’s balls.” 

“You talk in your sleep as well. I won’t be repeating any of it.” Edward laughed loudly as he funnelled two more logs into the hearth. “You should know I like you Rutherford. A man of strong convictions, willing to admit when he’s wrong and fix it. Hard to find men of that caliber these days. Too many eager to please someone and too proud to admit they’re at fault. I think you and Kyrie would be a strong pair.” Striking the flint, he quickly managed to get a small fire going. “She’s like her mother though. Strong willed and stubborn.” Chuckling at the image he sat upon the floor, near the heat and flames. “But I think you knew that already.”

“Edward…”

“Just lay there and let an old man ramble,” sighing out long and heavily Edward tossed a few more bits of paper into the fire. “You remind me of myself. So damn headstrong, thinking you can save the World. Then the Chantry dropped this ball in our laps. Hell, of a thing. Unlimited power in a single sip, binding you like a chained dog. Some line of bullshit isn’t it? Be the best, train hard, save Thedas, all while the Chantry burns away who you are. You’re a strong man, many would have turned back by now, many have or worse.” Lifting his gaze to the balcony he shuddered, “I wonder if they ever told you why there are no large windows in Circles. I can tell you it has nothing to do with the mages. Once a templar gets far enough along he looks to end it all. Sweep it away in one motion. Many used to toss themselves from the windows. Such a high fall the chance of surviving the impact was almost always none. Ten years, much like yourself, I believed it. Bought every ounce of ‘be the hero’ propaganda. Until I met her. Roselinn Trevelyan. Maker she was beautiful, and so blessedly alive. So much more alive than I felt. I had hoped against everything that she felt the same way, that we could be together in our fucked-up cage. Until Kyrie happened.” Drawing his knees up he rested his arms over them. “I wonder if they ever told you where the Chantry gets some of it’s infant templars. Mages. They’re snatched at birth, whisked away to the Chantry. ‘Promised at birth,’ the order claims. Then raised and watched. If they show no signs of magic, they are given their lyrium leash. Told they were scorned, hated and left by their family. Bullshit.”

“Edward,” Cullen groaned as he rose into a half slumping sit. “I was a Knight-Captain at Kirkwall for six years. I witnessed many things under Meredith. There are worse things to happen then stealing infants.” Feeling his stomach roll he struggled to hold it off. “I was angry. So very angry, at all of them. Every mage I saw sparked an intense rage inside. I did horrible things in my first couple years. Until my anger was tempered.” 

“You met someone?” Edward turned, and watched as Cullen crossed the room to sit by the fire. “Somewhat. I met the Champion of Kirkwall, a free mage.” Flopping down next to Edward he tried to steady the spinning fog. “She was everything I didn’t know mages could be. Witty, smart, kind, a hero, things I was trained to believe were impossible outside of a templar.”

“There’s more isn’t there.”

“There was, for a time.” Pressing his back against a chair he drew in a long breath, holding it for a second to steady himself. “Her elven lover scorned her, and I suppose what better way to handle it then to bed a templar. At least, that’s what I thought in the beginning. I was wrong. She…. She cared. But I couldn’t.” Coughing he gripped at his head. “She opened my eyes but not my heart. I… I haven’t been able to feel for someone in some time.” Rubbing his hands near the flame a single ember jumped and singed into the back of his left hand. “Could I feel?”

“Part of your issue is the lyrium withdrawal. Let it run its course and see where it takes you. Now up you go,” rising sharply Edward turned and stuck his arm out. “Time for some rest. It’s best to sleep off what you can. Your nightmares are a blessing compared to the pain.”

“I’d prefer the pain.” Wiping the ash from the back of his hand he took Edward’s offer and rose, shaking and weak. “I can understand pain.” 

“Hush. Time for rest.” 

Varric took the thin pair of spectacles from the tip of his nose. Rubbing at his eyes he’d just finished penning down the last bit of code. Giving a roll of his neck he sighed at the satisfying pop that came out. Picking up his glasses he read it back over, a frown creasing his face. “Bits and pieces, but it’s a start.” Folding over the paper he quietly tidied up and slipped the original copies into the satchel. Pushing the flap of the tent open he made a motion for Kyrie to come over. 

When she got inside Varric laid it all out. The code wasn’t overly complex, but he couldn’t be sure of his wording. Leliana had better resources back in Skyhold to verify his information. What he was confident in was that there was a mine in Sahrnia that they were using. Using to mass produce as much red lyrium as they could. Even a veiled reference to Samson. 

“We’re not even a two day ride from the Emprise.” Kyrie bit her top lip as she looked over a map laid upon a table. “Why, if we leave come morning light, and the weather holds we might make base camp before night fall.”

“Leliana has already sent people to the Emprise on an unrelated issue. We’re kinda expected there anyways.” Varric chipped in, eager to end the red lyrium threat, the memory of Bartand’s ramblings fresh in his mind. “We need to stop this. I need to stop this.”

“We’ll leave come morning. I’ll send word. Excellent work Varric!” Placing her hand on his shoulder she nodded, “get some rest, it’ll be a long enough journey.”

Leliana climbed the steps to Kyrie’s room, “Edward?”

“I’m glad you came. Where’s the Seeker?”

“On her way. How bad is it?” Leliana peeked over to see Cullen half thrashing about, uttering words that were barely intelligible. “He’s reliving Kinloch.” Her face fell. “I remember it well. Surana… we should have been there sooner.”

“Uldred. I remember hearing about it. He was there?” Edward ran his hand through his hair. “He’s a tough son of a bitch, but I need to know how long he’s been without.”

“Nearly six months,” Cassandra came marching up the stairs, “he should nearly be through the worst of it.” Walking past Edward and Leliana she took a seat upon the bed, “hang on Cullen, you are almost there.” Taking a rag from the wash basin beside the bed she rung it out before applying it to his forehead. “We have word on the Inquisitor. Edward, how goes the training?”

“As expected, the recruits make progress, but we lost many at Adamant. I’ll need at least six weeks to get them up to speed. I can spare twenty, maybe thirty men. But I would push no further.” Standing with his hands clasped behind his back he turned to Leliana. “What do your scouts report?”

“The Inquisitor is safe and has discovered a large deposit of red lyrium. It seems the Mayor of Sahrnia sold her people to the red templars. They fed the lyrium to them, it grew, and they harvested it.” Shivering she grunted. “When she went to face the Mayor, she turned herself in, her excuse; it was for their survival.”

“I’m guessing Kyrie saw it differently,” Edward noticed the subtle nod. “We’ll be expecting her. Good. Let’s send out a group to clean the area. One way or another we need to help those people.”

“They need a bridge. When the water froze over it shattered their only supply line. Normally the Commander would select a group of…”

“I have a list of twenty of my strongest and most able. Take them to build, get it done. We will be prepared for the Winter palace,” looking over at Cullen, Edward let out a long breath. “He will be recovered in time but weak. Kyrie should return within the next week. By then we will have little time to ready.” Holding his hand up he shook his head, “I will remain at Skyhold and continue the training. Cullen will be well by then and should make the appearance. He must make the appearance. Any sign of weakness could be exploited. My task is here and I except that.”

“Thank you, for stepping up and maintaining Cullen’s health.” Cassandra returned the clothe to the bowl. “He is nearly there. I suspect you will see a difference in the next day or two. Were there only a better way,” shaking her head she nodded to Leliana, “be ready to advise the Inquisitor upon her return. I shall be in the courtyard if either of you have need of me.” 

Edward turned his attention back to Cullen, “Edward…”

“I’m aware. Let me be sure he is resting.” Gingerly he tucked the blankets about Cullen, “I’ll return soon as I can. Remain and rest.” Inside he knew something was a miss, the withdrawal shouldn’t have taken this long nor been this extensive. In private he’d sent a letter to Kyrie. If anyone could help, it would be her knowledge, passed down from her mother. “Maker hear me.” He uttered under his breath as he descended the stairs to begin the day’s training. 

By the time the sun had risen to its highest peek, Edward was beginning to think he’d made a mistake. Surely Cullen should have improved by now. Leaving the senior swordsman to run a few simple drills he rushed back to Kyrie’s room. He was met in the stairway by Cassandra, “he has not improved. I fear we…”

“We cannot give him lyrium now.” Edward cut her to the quick. “Send word to Kyrie, the fastest bird we have. If she is any bit her mother’s daughter, she can help. I believe it more than anything.”

“Stay by his side, I will send word.”

Kyrie saw the raven circle above them, “is that? Baron Von Plucky?” At the name the bird dove down, coming to an elegant stop on Blackwall’s outstretched arm. “It appears it is.” He smirked reaching up to untie the message upon his back. “It’s for you.” Reaching over he handed her the scroll before returning his attention to the ebony hawk. “Good boy,” stroking his feathered head he cooed and reached into his satchel to feed the creature. 

Removing the tie, she quickly read over the coded message, “we ride now.” Flicking it into the air and letting it burn to ash she gazed out at the shadow of Skyhold in the distance. “We must reach Skyhold before nightfall. There is no time.” Gripping the reins tightly she whipped her horse to move, “hurry my friend.”

Blackwall barely finished passing the raven a scrap of dried meat when Kyrie spoke. “Back to Skyhold, you’ve done your job.” Raising his arm, the bird spread its wings and let out a loud shriek before flying towards the Keep. 

Edward dabbed at Cullen’s forehead, “damnit, you should have been through the worse by now.” Gritting his teeth, he rung the clothe out. “This makes no sense.”

“No… mmm. Maker please…” Cullen mumbled out as his brow knit tight. “Stop. I… I can’t…”

“Hold on. Kyrie is coming, I know she can help. She has to.” Laying the clothe along his forehead again he rose and went to tend to the fire, “what did they do to you…”

“Blood. Thick and iron in the air. Everywhere. Bodies, death and demon.” Cole sat at the Inquisitor’s desk; his gaze fixed on Cullen. “Uldred made things, terrible things from people, with people. He tried to make him into something he wasn’t. It hurt. It still does.” 

“Cole, right?” Edward remembered the conversation with Kyrie of the strange spirit boy. How he could seemingly appear, speak the minds of those about him and wish to ‘help.’ At this point Edward was open to any form of aid. “Cullen is hurting? Why is he not healing? He had lyrium, as I did, he should be out of it by now.” 

“The blue sings. She gave extra, tried to bind him to her. It all ended in red.” Cole blinked, slowly as if he was reading a letter. “Bodies, burning, death and blood. So many nightmares, all real, too real.”

“How…”

“She’s rushing. Pushing as hard as she can. ‘Please don’t die. You can’t die.’ She is scared she won’t make it in time. But she will.”

“Kyrie. How close is she?”

“Soon, nearly over the bridge. I will clear her way.” The last word left his lips and he was gone. Edward closed his eyes tight, wondering if he’d heard what he’d heard. “Please, hurry Kyrie.”


	14. Saving Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!!!
> 
> Some discussion of: Blood, trauma, torture and sickness. You've been forewarned.

Kyrie reached the bridge and barely slowed her horse enough to jump down. Rushing past the flock of people to see her she pushed through to her quarters. “Father I…”

“There’s no time,” Edward met her at the stairs, taking her hand in his he led her to Cullen’s side. “He’s not improving. I don’t understand. If he was fed lyrium as I was, by now he should have recovered. Instead, he seems to be, trapped.” 

There wasn’t another word between them as Kyrie quickly tugged off her riding gloves. Waving a hand over Cullen she could feel the heat radiating, pulsing with each beat of his heart. “He’s burning alive.” 

“Is there anything you can do?” Edward nervously wrung his hands as Kyrie smirked wide. “Father, I am a pyromancer, a simple fever is nothing.” Reaching down she rested the tips of her fingers upon Cullen’s forehead. “When the village children fell to fever, they called mother. When I was very young, just learning my powers, this was the trick she taught me. To pull the heat away, to burn it away.” Lifting her other hand up, she closed her eyes and opened her palm. “To take the fire inside and burn it away outside.” Bright flames of orange and blue danced in random shapes above her open hand. “He’s cooking inside. If I can’t draw the heat away, there will be permanent damage. He’s suffered for a long time.” A frown creased her lips, “so much pain.”

“NO, stop, Maker please.” Cullen groaned as he struggled to reach her hand. “I… stop.” In his thrashing he caught hold of her wrist and pulled it free from his forehead. With a strength she wasn’t expected he clutched it to his chest, his heart hammering like a man who’d ran several laps about Skyhold. Her eyes shot open wide, gazing down at his now exposed torso. His left side was scarred from the clavicle down to below his nipple. Thick, silvery scars that looked ragged. “Claws…” she exhaled the words, fear locking tight in her chest. On his right shoulder five spaced puncture wounds, also silvery and healed. “Maker, what happened to you…”

“Kyrie.” Edward touched her shoulder, causing her to jump and Cullen’s grip to tighten. She let out a whine in pain and instantly he released her. “Maker, please…” he broke into a mumbled chanticle and Kyrie stumbled backwards. “He… I don’t…”

“Breathe.” Edward wrapped her in his arms, “mages may be hunted, treated ill and have every right to their plight, but a templar endures much as well. Did you ever hear of Kinloch? The horrors of the broken Circle?”

“Blood. Thick and heavy in the air. Screams echoing against the cold stone. No one is coming. We’re all dead. Maker, why did I live?” Cole appeared again, this time by Cullen’s side, he barely indented the edge of the bed where he rested. “He hates himself. He lived; they didn’t. Nothing was fair. Twice. Then again. Always surviving where better men than I, fell.”

Kyrie froze, “Kinloch, was the Fereldan Circle? He was at more than one? I don’t…”

“Anger, hot and untampered. He did a terrible thing. They made him leave, but Kirkwall was worse. She tried to make him hate all mages, but he couldn’t. The blue sang through him, more than he should have had.” Cole cocked his head to the side; a look of pain painted his pale complexion. “He doesn’t feel he deserves less than agony. Penance for the pain he caused. I can’t help if he won’t let me, but I want to.” 

Cullen’s hand flew to his scarred chest, his nails digging into the flesh, “Maker please!” he howled as his body clenched up. “Kyrie!” Edward turned and shouted as he rushed to Cullen’s side, trying in vain to pull his hands away from their target. 

“I don’t know what to do. I…” she closed her eyes tight, willing the panic to go away, pushing it down hard. “I can do something. I have to.” 

“I can hold him down, but hurry, the man isn’t small.” Edward grunted as he struggled to keep Cullen’s arms at his sides. “Hurry!” 

Kyrie went to move, her feet like heavy stone. “I… I…” Her hands shook as she continued to gaze at him, thrashing against Edward in a vain effort to get up. She locked eyes with him, and his wild thrashing stopped, “Ky… Kyrie?” Her name cracked in his throat, as his eyes welled up, “you shouldn’t see this. See me…”

“I’m here to help,” coming closer, her heart hammered in her chest, nearly deafening her. “I need you to calm yourself. You have a dangerously high fever. I need to draw it out. Please, let me help you.” Her words seemed to sway him as he eased back into the bed. Silence blanketed the awkward tension as she stopped next to him, “I’m going to place three fingers upon your forehead. I promise it will not hurt. I need you to remain calm, relax and let me do the work. If at any point you are uncomfortable or wish me to stop, simply ask.” It was the same line she’d said time and again as she healed the smallest child to the eldest villager as they travelled about. But this time it meant more, it felt more than just the usual drive to relieve; to heal.

Cullen’s tongue came out in vain to wet his parched lips, “I understand.” He muttered as he laid back, closing his eyes. “I trust you.” Kyrie stood by his side, her fingertips barely pressing against his forehead as she worked, drawing the fever out and burning it off. What normally would have taken her only a brief few minutes at most seemed to last hours, exhausting her completely. “I… I can’t continue.” 

“I can’t give you lyrium, not with his condition.” Edward had pensively stayed by her side, keeping ever a watchful eye on the two. “Rest, my child, you need rest.” 

Perhaps it was fatigue, too much exhaustion of her energy or it was the adrenaline wearing thin, but she nearly collapsed into Edward. “Shh,” he cooed as he cradled her close, placing her in her bed, right beside Cullen. “You both need rest. I swear to you; I’ll be right here when you wake.” 

Cloudy mist blurred her vision as she slipped into the dreamer’s realm; the Fade. Easing into a deep sleep she was taken to a strange place. “This is like no where I’ve been.” Spinning about, she couldn’t recognize the stone walls and rows upon rows of books. “Where…”

“You called.” Cole took a step out of the shadows to stand at her side. “You wanted to know, to see. I can help. You’re safe and so is he.” 

“Am I in his dream?”

“No. This is a memory of what was and cannot be again.” Cole pointed forward. “You’ll see.” Leading her through the halls they arrived at a massive open room, lined with shelf after shelf of books. “It’s a library. Where… where are all the windows?” 

“She threw herself from the top, never survived the fall. No more windows, too dangerous to both factions.” Cole pointed towards a tall man in templar regalia standing watch in a corner. His youthful face stunned her; tight coils of spun gold sat like a mop on his head. “Cu… Cullen? He’s just a boy.”

“Eighteen summers seen when he first took the blue. It sang loudly, made him feel important.” 

“Hmm,” Kyrie watched as Cullen nervously bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet, his eyes glued to the hall entrance. “What…”

“Watch.”

In through the door came a stunningly beautiful elven mage. Her ebony hair seemed to glow under the well-lit braziers that filled the room with light. She returned his smile, her cheeks softly tinting a faint pink as she went up to greet him. “Good day Ser Cullen. How do you fair?”

“I’m… I’m well thank you. And you Surana?”

“I go for my harrowing soon. I hear you will be there as well.” Nearly instantly Cullen’s face fell. “I… They have charged me to be the one to make the killing blow if you fail. But… But I know you won’t.” Kyrie watched as Surana gently placed her hand upon the only bit of exposed skin, just above his gloves where the bracers met. “I have one request before, if I may.”

“Ask anything.” Cullen was clearly enamored with the woman. Kyrie had to bite down the urge to turn away. “A kiss? For good luck.” Cullen instantly went red, stammering and stuttering as his hand flew to the base of his neck, “I…uh… I have to go.” He bolted off, in full run, leaving Surana to silently snicker into her hands. 

“Why…”

“You’ll see.” Cole waved his hand and the room shifted, twisting and turning, time moving forward. “We’re safe, they watch and wait but they know of Nightmare. What you did, how you defeated him. They will keep away from you.”

“Small comfort.” Kyrie mumbled as the room returned to show several groups of mages training. Some working on their control, other’s practicing castings, a few older members instructing. She could see a small classroom, sitting at desks while an older man stood at the front droning on about elemental magic. “What…”

“Watch. You’re answers lie here.” 

Kyrie waited as an alarm went off, somewhere within the building. Cullen was at the furthest end of the library. He rushed into the main room, head swivelling back and forth as he tried to discern where the problem was. Around him chaos erupted. Mages turned on mages, forbidden magic, blood being used to kill and capture. Cullen reached for his sword but was taken by surprise in the chaos when a blood mage clubbed him over the back of the head with a large tome. “Maker!” Kyrie gasped. “Wait. There’s more.” Cole motioned his hand, once again changing the scene.Blood, some bright red and more still browning splatted about the stone walls and floors. Kyrie gagged, “so much…”

“It is not real. But you will see, hear and smell what he did. Know what he knows. Then, you can help.” Cole again pointed towards the far corner. This time they weren’t in a library. It was instead a smaller room, octagonal in shape with ceilings that seemed to mimic the caves of dwarfs. Swallowing hard she tried to shake the dread crawling up her spine, edging against her. “We’re doomed.” One man uttered as he paced back and forth. “What do they want from us?” 

“Nothing good Thomas, sit.” A female motioned; her face badly bruised. “Cullen, can you hear me?” Laying on the ground, he moaned as he rolled over, his armor stripped from him leaving him in simple cloth clothes. “What happened?”

“Some of the mages rebelled, rose up and seem to have created a piss load of demons,” Thomas huffed as he leaned down to help Cullen into a sit. “There was more than us, but…”

“Don’t.” The female shook her head. “We don’t know what’s happening and we need to have faith they will get to us.”

“Before or after the lyrium withdrawal drives us mad Celene? When? We might be the only ones left.” Spitting out the words Thomas rose and yelled, “what do you want from us?!”

“Maker…” Kyrie shivered as she looked about the room. Gore covered most of the surfaces. “Thomas! Shut…” Before Celene could finish speaking the doors flew wide, two large abominations came trotting through, a single mage between them. “Someone is eager to play today.” The mage smiled wickedly as his hand waved out, the blood on the floor forming chains that bound Celene and Cullen. Kyrie clenched her fists as the mage forced them down to the floor, while the two abominations reached for Thomas, pulling him from the enchanted cell. “You two need to wait your turn. It’s only fair.” Once the abominations were clear he released them. 

Time once again seemed to shift, the sound of screaming echoing through the background. “This is horrible…” Kyrie shuttered as she rubbed her hands along her arms, trying in vain to warm herself through the horrors. “Couldn’t they fight back? Cancel the magic? They’re templars!”

“Without the little blue bottle, they can’t sing. Without the song, they can’t make it stop. It burns and twists, skin itching on fire. Stomach rolling and aching. Like swimming underwater with their eyes open. Nothing makes sense and everything hurts.” Cole seemed to frown as he blinked. “The worst is coming. Then, it will be understood.” 

“I… I don’t know if I can do this.” Kyrie began to quake, “I can’t… he’s… Cole.”

“You want to hold my hand. It’s alright.” Holding his hand out for her, she quickly took it, lacing her fingers with the boy. His hand was warm, far warmer than she imaged a spectral child to be. “I… I will try.”

When the spinning and shifting finished, Cullen was alone, knelt in the energy cage, praying. Just mumbling the words, reciting the Chant. Kyrie could see it, the desire demon slipped through the field to begin its work. Swallowing hard, she tried to calm her breathing, and her hammering heart as the demon began its torment. Morphing into the likeness of Surana. “Cullen. Oh, thank the Maker you’re alright.” She smiled sweetly as she touched his shoulder, “I came back soon as Knight- Commander Greagoir sent the word. I can’t believe Uldred did this.” 

“I… everything hurts, I’m so tired.” He barely had the energy to look up, and when she cradled his face in her palm, he gave in. Surrendering himself to the hope that it was over. He was covered in bruises, several cuts along his arms, his shirt tattered, pants ripped. Blood was matted in his hair, where the tome had struck him, and Kyrie was nearly certain that he was delirious from infection and malnourishment. “I can take you out of her Cullen. Come with me.” Her voice was a sick honey, dripping into him. “I can be everything for you Cullen.”

Instantly, his eyes flew wide, “demon!” Trying to push himself back he was caught in her arms as she twisted, Surana melting away into the seductive image of the desire demon. In a flash she knocked him down, not an extreme feat given his condition. Kyrie flinched and Cole gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, something she needed. “I…”

“Almost.”

Cullen growled and attempted to fend off the creature to no avail. “I will not give in to you and your kind. Demon.” Again, he spat the word out, earning the ire of the violet creature. “Shh,” she purred as she raked her claws down his chest, the same place Kyrie had seen the scars before. “I can make it all go away. The pain,” with her hand she began to press her nails into his skin, matching the same scars on his right side. He howled in agony, “never!” He growled back as she continued her torment. As if sensing the flood of emotions rolling through her, Cole sped through the scene. “One last piece.”

Cullen was knelt again, returned to his prayer, looking far worse than he had before, but alive. Rushing up to him came a group of people. Three Kyrie recognized, “that’s Leliana, and King Alistair, and… Surana?”

“They call her the Hero of Fereldan.” Cole smiled, “she was very upset about seeing this. It haunts her still some nights.” 

“Maker…” Kyrie sighed out as Surana banged on the shimmering magical cell wall. “Cullen. Cullen can you hear me?” 

“Go away demon. I… I won’t give in…” Cullen weakly looked up. “You won’t have me.”

“Cullen we’re here to help,” Leliana pulled Kyrie back, “where’s Uldred? Where’s the first enchanter?”

“In the Harrowing chamber above.” Cullen shook his head, the force causing him to fall over. Laying on the floor he grunted. “I don’t believe you are real. But perhaps the Maker is preparing to welcome me to his side. I never strayed… I never…” Getting back into a kneel he closed his eyes tightly and began the Chant anew. 

Kyrie’s heart shattered, tears rolled down her cheeks, “I never…. This is monstrous. How… Oh Cullen.” Pressing her hand to her chest she shook her head. “I think, I understand now. No one could come out of that not loathing mages and everything they embody.” 

“He doesn’t hate. He was angry, very angry for a long time. Not anymore.” Cole turned to face her, still holding her hand. “But it’s time to rest now. Regain your strength in sweet dreams. You won’t remember me, but you will remember this. Sleep.”


	15. Nightmare

When she woke, she couldn’t help the lingering sense of pain inside her. Looking over to the scowling face of Cullen she could see he was in the throws of another nightmare. With a tenderness she wasn’t expecting she cupped his jaw in her hand, “hush, you aren’t there. You’re in Skyhold. Easy, Cullen, breathe.” Humming softly, she stroked her fingers through his hair. Slowly he calmed, falling into a restful sleep, his body easing and relaxing. Drawing in a deep breath her eyes trailed down to the long silvery scars, “Maker…”

“He’ll heal,” Edward grumbled as he sat and stretched. “Are you well my dear?”

“My head hurts, if that matters.” Sighing heavily, she shrugged. “But he’s not out of it yet.”

“We need to get him through this and quickly. The Winter Palace is less than a month away. We still have to figure in travel time and tailoring.” Rising he yawned, “I’ll get us some breakfast. Keep an eye on him and don’t exert yourself. You need to eat darling.” Kicking his boots on, he skipped down the stairs and out of view. Kyrie snuggled into her bed, thankful for the warmth and softness of the mattress. Staring at him as he slept, she mindlessly brushed the hair back from the edge of his forehead, enjoying how the curls bounced over her fingers. “Mmm,” he sighed as he turned to lay upon his back. “Kyrie.”

Pausing at the sound of her name she didn’t know what to do. Listening for a moment he mumbled something under his breath, faint and slurred. “What did you say?” She whispered as she bit her bottom lip, afraid to startle him. Holding her breath, she tried to listen in. Tried in vain to hear what he was uttering. Again, he muttered her name as he began to wiggle about. He grunted again, his brow creased tight in pain, “I’m sorry. Please, please just stay with me.”

“Stay?”

“Should have been me.” His thrashing was beginning to grow, and Kyrie knew she needed to intercede again. “Shh, I’m here. Cullen, it’s Kyrie. You’re alright.” Taking his hand in hers she caught how cold his fingers were. “Maker!” Sitting up as quickly as she could, she took his other hand, noticing the tips of his fingers were pale. “I’m going to use a bit of magic to warm your fingers, and probably your toes. Do you hear me?” He grunted again and she focused, wrapping her hands in a slow growing warmth. Carefully she wrapped his limbs in a blanket of heat, allowing him to absorb it naturally instead of forcing it through him. Releasing it she quickly checked him over. “Better.” 

“Alright Ms. Healer, what do you think about the patient?” Edward bounded up the steps, a stack of papers in his hands. “Is he going to make it?”

“I think the worst is over, but I can’t be sure. It’s so, strange.” Kyrie bit her bottom lip as she rose. “I’m going to head to the bath house, I need to wash. Could you mind over him? I think he’ll be fine while I’m away.” Weakly smiling she stood and collected her things. “Once you return, breakfast will be ready.” Edward smiled and nodded. 

All the way there, she couldn’t help but mull over the nightmare; his nightmare. What he’d endured. Yet her mind took her back to the mages, escaping the Gallows of Kirkwall. “I wonder what happened there.” With her mind glued to the conflict within she wasn’t paying any attention to where she was walking. Lifting her head, she didn’t have time to get out of the way. Slamming into Blackwall’s bare chest she began to tumble. A sharp jarring motion had her force her eyes open. “Whoa, are you alright my lady.” His thick arms were wrapped around her, the steam from the bath still radiating off him in heavy waves. “Oh.” Helping to steady her upon her feet he smiled. “You look like you’re doing better. How are you fairing?”

“Better. I think a hot shower might just finish the job.” Trying to collect her mind it felt scattered. Littered about the issues she’d surrounded herself with. “I… I never did get the chance to thank you. For returning me here, after Adamant. It helped.” 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Blackwall’s smile was wide and warm. “Best get in before the water gets cold.”

“Not a problem for me,” snickering she passed by him and opened wide the curtain. Stepping into the richly painted stone building the steam swirled over her. Sighing heavily, she made her way to the furthest walled off section. Pulling a long curtain back she saw the tub empty, buckets laying on the floor next to it. Ignoring them she summoned snow and filled the tub before quickly melting it. “Fresh.” Smiling she hung her towel and change of clothes. Stepping into the bath she let out a soft moan. “Maker yes,” warming the water a bit more she felt it ease the tension from her shoulders and back. Sinking down till her chin touched the edge of the pool, she closed her eyes and tried to let the few days drift away. Her mind would not relent, taking her back to the violent images of Cullen, trapped, tormented and helpless. Grumbling, she blew bubbles at the water’s surface. It was difficult to separate the two occurrences in her mind. He was a monster in Kirkwall, from all she’d heard, but there was Kinloch. “Mom, you always said there is more than one side to the story. Too bad I can’t get all of it.” Drawing in a deep breath she plunged her head under water, shaking her head side to side causing her hair to flutter around her. After letting all of her hair out she came up, pushing her hair back over her head. “I’m sure I won’t find any answers under water.” Reaching for the bottles to wash she set the thought aside.

“We’re running out of time.” Josephine was pacing back and forth in the war room. “Cullen is still unconscious and we’re behind schedule in regard to the Winter Palace. At this rate, I cannot stall any longer. We must all wear whatever the tailor can make in such a sort time.” In frustration Josephine penned out the memo. “If the Commander can attend at all.”

“He’ll make it.” Edward grumbled as he looked at the timeline laid out by the ambassador. “We still have time. We don’t have to leave for three more days at the latest. Being late to an Orlesian affair is a sign of power or something.” Waving his hand, he moved a few items about. “I can have the guard ready to slip in well before then. I have a select group I want to use. Names have been provided to Leliana.”

“Yes, well picked.” Leliana grinned. “I have faith the Commander will manage. He has the best in you and Kyrie. Your knowledge of lyrium withdrawal will remain key to his success.” Sliding forward a list she tipped her head. “I wish to add these men and women. Can you have them ready to move out in two days time?”

“Consider it done.” Edward bowed deeply. “Now if there is nothing else, I must tend to both the men and Cullen.”

“Yes, we can work out the rest. If need be, I will come find you.” Leliana nodded as she came around the table and stood beside Josephine. Edward wasted no time in hurrying back through the Keep making one sharp turn toward Kyrie’s room. With his fingers crossed he pushed through the door and took two steps at a time. 

“Edward?” Cullen was seated on the edge of the bed, “how long…”

“Too long. You’ve had everyone worried.” Edward calmly strolled towards him, “but you’re weak. Lay back down. I’ll get you some food and drink.” 

Cullen’s head swam, his body burned, and his feet and fingers were frozen. Summoning the last vestiges of his strength he pressed his hands into the mattress. That was the moment he realized where he was. Even though everything was foggy, he was clearly aware of the stained glass leading to the wrap around balcony. “Why…”

“Easy,” Edward handed him a mug filled with water. “Drink. You’ve been asleep for quite some time. Gave a lot of people a scare.”

Drink down nearly the whole cup Cullen sighed, “I would never let people down. Not the Inquisition, not you, and never….”

“Cullen!” Kyrie dropped her clothes on the floor her eyes wide. “Maker I…” Pausing she looked over to her father, “is he well? How long has he been up? He should be resting, he hasn’t recovered.”

Chuckling, Edward nodded, “easy darling.” Walking over he embraced her in a warm hug. “He hasn’t been awake long. You are right he isn’t well enough yet, but he will be strong again soon.” Wrapping an arm around her he walked her towards her desk. “I have food just freshly brought up. Are you hungry?”

“Famished! But…” Turning towards Cullen she paused. “Has he… Cullen,” reaching for some bread she ripped into the loaf. “Here.” Crossing the small space between them she held the piece up. “You need to rebuild your strength.”

He reached out, what little strength failing him. Grunting he nearly fell off the edge of the bed. If it weren’t for Kyrie. She wrapped her arms around him, “easy.” Edward had moved as well, grabbing at Cullen from his side. “Come on. Let’s get you back into bed.”

“I… I’m fine.” Cullen mumble, too weak to struggle. “I…”

“I need you to rest.” Kyrie ran her fingers through his hair, combing it back from his face. “Promise me you will rest.” Her hand shook, the bread lost in the blanket. “You haven’t been awake in some time. You will need time to rest, sadly time we don’t have. I can help speed it along with a bit of healing magic. But I won’t do it without your consent.”

“Please,” he hung his head, eyes closed as he exhaled long and loud. “There are people depending on me.” Kyrie say his fists balled tight. Gently she took his hands in hers, sitting next to him. “We can wait, if that’s what you wish. I know many healing salves, drinks, and other methods that do not require magic.” Cullen’s eyes snapped open. He looked at her like a dog who’d heard a sharp noise. “I am more than fine with you using magic. Please, if you can, I am asking for your aid.” Looping his fingers in hers he let his body go limp back against the pillows. 

Kyrie licked at her lips, feeling her mouth run dry. Glancing back at her father she caught him smile and nod. Focusing her magic, she slowly pulsed it through the tips of her fingers. Warming his numb fingers and toes. Easing the ache from the tense muscles and tightened ligaments. Feeling him begin to breathe easier she kept going, pushing and willing to mend what she could. There was so much damage. So much pain. Hearing the sound snoring coming from him she stopped, “he needed to eat.” Frowning she went to pull back only to feel his hands clench about hers. “Cullen. I won’t leave, I just would like a drink.” At her words his grip relented. Patting his hands, she rose, turning to see her father putting together a bit of food and pour her a bit of wine. “Wine?”

“You will need it.” Sighing heavily, he began. Informing her they would be needing to travel to the Winter Palace in three days, at the most. Going through the plan for getting their people inside he paused, “can you get him mobile by then?”

“Yes and no.” Kyrie sighed heavily, sipping at her wine. “I can heal him enough to get him mobile, but he needs time. Food and water. He’s lost a lot being unable to care for himself.” Picking at some of the cured meat off the tray she shook her head. “I need at least a week for him to be even halfway to where he was.”

“I can do it.” Cullen groaned as he sat up, pressing his back flush with the headboard. “I feel more myself now.” Kyrie nearly bolted out of her chair. “Cullen!” Scrambling again she collected some food and poured another mug of water. “You need to regain your strength. Slowly! Your stomach will not tend well if you rush.”

“I have three days.” Grunting he sat back off the headboard. “And faith in you.” Closing his eyes, he willed himself to get his legs over the edge of the bed. It nearly took everything in him to shift his weight. Feeling her touch his hand, he opened his eyes. There she was, a glass of water in her hand and a small plate of food. “It’s not much but we must start small.” Bringing the cup to his lips she tried not to focus too much on his appearance. He’d lost a substantial amount of weight, most of the muscle definition he had, was gone. “Oh Cullen…” Kyrie sat next to him on the bed, her sudden shift in weight caused him to tumble down on top of her. “Maker! I…” Struggling against his body, trying in vain he let out a long-defeated sigh. “I can’t move.” 

Kyrie burst into laughter at the silliness of the entire situation. “Maker,” pushing at him she couldn’t get him to move. “I can’t physically move you Cullen. But I could use magic to lift you. If you don’t mind.” Leaning over as best she could she paused, “it’s not that you’re hurting me, but I’m certain this isn’t comfortable for you.” Kyrie laid back on the bed, trying to think of how best to handle this situation. 

“I…” realizing he was laying half across her waist, face near her chest he wiggled off to the side, slumping onto the bed. “I apologize. I didn’t intend…”

“Cullen, you barely have enough energy to sit up.” Wiggling against him she managed to get out from under him. “That’s not… You are afraid of me and I am doing very little to aid in correcting that.” 

“Cullen.” Kyrie sat up and reached over to help right him. Collecting the scattered food, she returned to sit next to him, this time more careful in her descent. “Now, we need to get you fed. And I need to speak with you.” Placing the plate in his lap she waited for him to begin eating. While he picked through the meal, mindful of his delicate stomach he listened.


	16. Burning Inside

“I was afraid of you. Because you were the Bastard with the Brand. The man that gave every young mage nightmares.” Pausing to collect herself she rose from the bed to pace back and forth. “But there is something about you, some strange thing that didn’t make any sense in the beginning. You fought to make things even when I thought for sure you would side with the templars. With any non-mage. But time after time you showed to be fair, and unbiased.” Finally sitting behind her desk, she fumbled to grab something, to fill her nervous fingers. “I was confused, for a long time. Thought somehow that you were trying to trick me. But as time went by, I saw the truth in your actions, even when no one was looking.”

“Kyrie…”

“As I struggled to find my way out of the avalanche, I couldn’t help but think of all that went unsaid. All the questions I never got to ask. But then, we were quickly all ushered into roles that demanded every waking moment. Demanded that I be elsewhere.” Feeling her heart hammer in her chest she tried to will herself to continue. “Then I found my father and to hear all the things he endured, at the hands of the Chantry, as a templar. I never knew.”

“Kyrie stop.” Cullen shifted trying to move anything, to do something other than sit. “You couldn’t have known and…”

“And it wasn’t fair. Neither party was right, nor was it wrong. It… It’s complicated.” She wasn’t sure if she should mention Cole and Kinloch. Biting her tongue, she reached into her desk drawer. “But I said what I meant, and I meant what I said. I want to get to know you. Since you will be under my care for the next few days, perhaps we can make it at least a bit better.” Meekly she came over to the small table by the bed. Placing the box on top she dragged it over to be comfortably near him. “Do you feel well enough for a game? Perhaps it’s best we stretch your mind before we begin with your body. Recovery will be slow.” Pulling the pieces out of the box and sliding the board out of its hidden location carved into the bottom of the unassuming set, she set it up. 

Cullen eagerly leaned forward, the board sparking his need to flex his metal strength. And the thought of spending time with Kyrie was an added bonus. As he played, he allowed Kyrie to guide the conversation. Listening as she spoke on her father, asking how Cullen met him, how they became friends and how he’d gained his trust. “I suppose it was thanks to Hawke. She opened my eyes to a lot of what was going on in Kirkwall. The plight of the mages and the truth of Meredith. When everything fell apart, I stood with her. Stood against Meredith. I knew the Order would need help to put Kirkwall back together. But I couldn’t trust every man under my command. I tried to keep them going, best I could until re-enforcements arrived from Ostwick. Edward was a senior templar and was eager to get to work. It didn’t take long for him and I to get stuck together.” Chuckling he moved another piece. “He pulled my rear out of a couple messes.” Again, his fingers instinctively went to his lip as his mind glossed over the memory. “From there he was a calming force and a level head when needed. Between him and Rylen it was a fine line over who worked harder. If not for his age, I’m certain Edward would have come out on top.”

“Thank you.” Kyrie moved her piece forward as she caught the slight wobble in Cullen’s hand. “I think, perhaps after this game, you should get some rest.”

“It’s been too long since I spoke on other things beyond the Inquisition. You’ll forgive my wish to continue, despite my body.” Moving another piece, he debated his next plan of attack. If she continued to play the way she was, he had her in six moves. But if he chose a more aggressive push, he could win in two. Either way he would end the game far sooner than he wanted. There was a pleasant comfort in sitting with her, talking idly. Seeing her slide a piece forward, he knew it had to come to and end. “You look upset.” Kyrie frowned. “You’re probably close to beating me. Don’t feel sad for me. The more you beat me, the more I will learn and one day I will best you.” Smiling sweetly, she reached for the pot of tea and poured another cup for herself. Motioning it towards him she filled his cup when he nodded. “I wasn’t upset about winning. Though I take no pleasure in beating you. I was thinking that this had to come to an end. I do not wish it to.” 

“I will play another game or two only once you’ve rested. We’ve got precious little time before we are forced to go.” Seeing the end coming she took one more of his pieces before he was set to win. “I shall have food and drink ready when you wake. If you feel strong enough, we can call up a bath. There is a tub in the storage closet.” 

“Thank you, I…” pausing he blinked several times. “What… I should move to another room. Now that I am well enough, you need your bed back and…”

“Nonsense.” Kyrie chuckled as she cupped the mug in her hands. “You don’t move very much in your sleep and you’re quite warm. It’s very pleasant.” Smiling wide she blew the steam across the lip of the mug. “Like travelling. We share a tent you know. Two or all of us. Depending on weather, and Bull. His horns scare me. But he doesn’t move much in his sleep either.” Shrugging she had to struggle to hold the laughter in as Cullen sat blank faced. “Unless it offends you. I can sleep on the couch. It’s more than large enough.” 

“No!” He’s uttered it far too quick. “I mean. No, it’s fine. We’re just sleeping. Resting. Restoring for the next day.” Refocusing on the board he placed the last piece in line. “Check mate.” 

“You have me.” Pushing over her King she smiled. “I learned a lot from that one. I look forward to more. I promise eventually I will win.”

“I look forward to that day.” Cullen smiled as he felt his eye lids grow heavier. “I dislike being weak like this.”

“Let me help you.” Kyrie placed her cup on the table and came around. Helping get him back under the covers and settled she turned and packed the board away. “Tell me,” Cullen grunted, getting comfortable. “If your mother was a healer, and a mage. How did you avoid getting caught by templars?”

Kyrie paused, placing the box down on her desk. “It was simple.” Coming around the desk she sat in her chair, pulling the letters dropped off early towards her. “Mother would pray as she administered healing magic. Always a part of the Chant that could have been construed as what afflicted the patient. Then she’d place her hands upon the person. Pushing her magic through her palms, directing it down and to the area needed. As she finished her ‘prayer’ the magic would have worked its course. Then she would kindly ask that they keep it quiet, less the templars ‘wrongly’ believe her to be a mage.” 

“Do you… Do you believe in the Maker?” He could barely get the words out, but he wanted to know. “No.” Simply she shrugged, pulling out her quill and ink pot she set to work. “I refuse to believe my life is controlled by an invisible man, floating in some ‘Golden City’ while we all struggle and toil. Further I will give no man or woman the credit for what I have fought and struggled for. Even this…” Pausing she touched the green gash, the Mark softly humming under her skin. No longer did it bother her, no longer did it distract her with it’s odd pulsing and heat. It was a part of her, like a second heartbeat. “I ran because I heard her cry. Heard a call to help, and I answered. She used what little diversion I created to slap the orb away from him. Like a typical child I reached for it. No special God or Creator forced my hand. Instinct, practiced over time, caused me to bend for it. And what happened was not ordained. It was intended, as the spell was cast. Nothing more.” 

Cullen was laying back in the bed, struggling against the sleep weighing him down. “I… I believe in you…” 

“Shh.” Kyrie shook her head as she peered up over her work. “You need sleep, Commander. That is in your control. And the sooner you listen to me, the sooner you will recover.”

“Yes… Inquisitor.” He mumbled out before slipping into a deep sleep. Kyrie nodded to herself, going through the letters and messages before rising to pull the cord by the fireplace. It would summon a messenger to come for the letters. Returning to her desk she neatly separated them and tapped them into alignment. Hearing the door open she waited patiently. As the messenger came up, she reached out, “these have been sorted and labelled. Deliver them to their intended targets.”

“Yes, my lady,” clapping his hand to his chest the messenger took them and rushed off. Taking the letters, she’d read she tossed them into the fire. “Kyrie.” Edward came bounding up the stairs. “I have news. Damn good news.”

“Come, sit. There isn’t much food left but help yourself. I’ve had my fill.” Yawning Kyrie sat back at her desk, waving him to the chair across from her. “What has you up here so late? Is everything alright?”

“Better than alright. We’ve got him Kyrie. We’ve found the bastard.” Edward sat in the chair, plopping himself down hard. “With the letters you recovered in the Emerald Graves, Leliana was able to send out a few of her people. They did their thing and we’ve got a time and a place. We can leave from the Winter Palace and make the trip in time to meet him. And take him down.” Edward leaned in close. “He’s set to meet at an abandoned summer villa just north of where the Watchers gather. He shall be there, due to meet with a small group of Venatori and we will meet him instead.”

Kyrie felt a weight come off her shoulders. “Finally.”

“I’m coming with you. I will ride out to the tavern just outside of Halamshiral and reach it by nightfall on the day of the ball. Together, we can move quickly and reach the Graves within two to three days. We will be there in more than enough time.” Smiling wide he sighed out heavily. “I may not have been there to stop it, but I will be there to finish it.” 

“I would have no other with me.” Yawning she waved at her face, willing it to stop. “I’m exhausted.”

“As you should be.” Rising he smiled, “you should rest. I’ll have breakfast brought up in the morning for you.” Coming around beside her, he wrapped her up in his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you, and I promise to be there with you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Father.” Squeezing him back she choked down the tears forming. “Get some rest. You’ll need it too.”

“Good night,” Edward gave her one final squeeze before he turned and left, quietly shutting the door behind him. Kyrie dabbed at her eyes and tidied up her desk. Changing into her nightgown she climbed into bed beside Cullen. “Good night Cullen. You should feel better tomorrow.” Pressing her hand to his chest she pushed a bit of healing magic through, feeling the last of her strength ebb from her. Snuggling in, hand still upon his chest, she fell asleep. 

A loud gasp woke her from a sweet dream. Blinking she caught the edge of someone rushing out the door. Ignoring it she snuggled back into the blanket, it was nice and warm, wrapped around her tightly. Coiling back up she felt the warmth move to surround her, a weight over her waist pulling her against itself. It was then she was aware of the shape the warmth took. Reaching out she ran her fingers over skin, blessedly warm and covered in a soft hair. “Cullen.” She wasn’t entirely sure how to take the moment, what to think. It wasn’t outside the usual. Bull would snuggle the person in his shared tent like a stuffed children’s toy. Even grunting in disapproval when that person wanted to get up. Varric talked in his sleep, something always towards Bianca or Hawke. Blackwall snored, sometimes loud enough to wake camp, other times it was a growly purr. Most of her companions were either light sleepers or more like herself, comfortable in tent quarters. It seemed Cullen wasn’t as heavy a sleeper, but he was as snuggly as Bull.

“Mmm.” Cullen mumbled as he slowly began to wake. “Oh…” she could hear the surprise in his voice, and she let out a giggle. “It’s fine Cullen.”

“I… oh…” He was further stunned and completely unsure how to handle it. Cuddling the Inquisitor? That wasn’t anywhere near his thought process. “Kyrie…”

“We need to see to your food and some more water. I can aid in your body absorbing it properly, but the eating is all on you.” Easing herself out of the bed, she stretched and went to her wardrobe. Digging through she selected something comfortable before turning to head into the storage room to change. 

Cullen righted himself, glad she hadn’t noticed the eagerness of his lower extremities. Reaching under the covers he adjusted himself before pulling himself into a sit. He felt better today, less pain and more clearness, but there was a definite sense of weakness. Even the act of pulling himself into a sit tired him, causing him to struggle to breathe. Closing his eyes, he focused on filling his lungs with air, slowly exhaling before drawing in another full breath. It took a couple repeats before he managed to calm himself. Unfortunately, it did nothing for his temperament.

“Good to see you awake, and somewhat alert.” Edward smiled as he came up the steps a large tray in hand. “I’ve brought you a hearty meal to share. How do you feel?”

“Less than what I want, but I suppose better than I could.” Huffing he shook his head, “tell me what I’ve missed and for how long.”

“Straight to it then, alright.” Edward slid the tray onto the desk and began filling two cups. “You’ve been in and out of fever for a little over nine days. Kyrie just managed to break it and I am convinced she saved your life.”

“I guess we are even then.” Shaking his head, he grumbled. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow. You and Kyrie will travel ahead with Josephine and Leliana. There’s an inn just outside of Halamshiral. Her chosen companions will be a half day behind. We’ve already sent ahead the men and women we discussed before. Our plan is still the same. Upon your arrival, the next day you will head to the ball. All in all, with travel time and Kyrie’s magic you will have five days, not including today.”

“He will be lucky to regain his ability to walk and move without dizziness or fatigue.” Kyrie came out of the storage room, finishing buckling the belt at her hips. “I can move the tub and tend to it myself. If he is well enough by this evening.” Sharing a look with her father she hoped he caught on to her. Hope he wouldn’t tell Cullen their plan. The fewer people involved the better, the quicker they could move and the sooner the deed would be done. Edward understood. “Good. I have brought your mail up and food for both. I on the other hand,” rising he reached over and took Cullen’s hand, patting it with the other. “Need to get back to the recruits. Being the temporary Commander is a thankless and long job. I look forward to returning it, old friend.” Smiling wide he nodded before turning to Kyrie. “And it seems you have some work to perform as well. The throne awaits a judgement on that slim lord from Tevinter. They have written us back, informing us he is no longer a Tevinter citizen and we have the exclusive rights to punish him. As you see fit, of course.”

“Thank you. Tell Josephine I shall tend to it this afternoon. I wish to see to Cullen’s recovery before hand.” Coming around to sit at her desk she settled in. Edward bowed again before rushing down the steps. “I have missed too much.” Cullen let out a long, exhausted sigh. “Far too much.” 

“Time and a bit of patience.” Kyrie looked over to him, seeing the food and drink beside him. “Eat. I’ll be over in a moment to treat you. Then I’ll have a bath drawn before I head to deal with Erimond.” Setting to work she mumbled under her breath as she read through letter after letter until she was done. Peeking up she saw Cullen had finished his meal. “Good.” Rising she walked over and placed a hand on his chest. Focusing her magic, she worked as easing his belly, calming the muscle and nerve to help sooth and heal. “Much better today. Perhaps you might just be back in fighting form by the ball.” Lifting up she turned to the storage closet. With a bit of force magic, taught to her by Solas, she moved the tub. Settling it she filled it as she always did. Heating the water through. “All good. I’ll be back soon. Relax and enjoy the soak. I will leave you with fresh soaps and a towel.” Bowing she quickly ushered out of her quarters, letters firmly in hand. 

Cullen could feel the heat radiating off the water and he had to admit the idea of a long soak was too tempting. He wasn’t wearing much, only a thin pair of linen pants he half remembered putting on. Far too long ago. Not wanting to think about it much more he eased himself off the bed, taking his time. Wiggling out of his pants he braced himself on the edge of the heavy metal tub before gingerly stepping in. It was perfect. Blessedly hot and wonderfully soothing. Sinking in he let his head rest on the back lip. His mind floated to the morning, waking with Kyrie in his arms and how calm she was. How wonderfully soft the silk nightgown was under his calloused hands. Even the sweet sigh she made when she slowly came around from sleep. He wished it was under different circumstances. Focus, he needed to focus, to repair himself and make things right. To find the strength to speak with her, tell her how he felt; how she made him feel. Lifting his arms out of the water he was angry with how much effort it took, how straining it was on him. Flopping back down into the tub he chewed the inside of his lip. He’d need help. “Maker why…” groaning he felt his arms and legs wobble. Sitting up the best he could he focused on washing, the act draining as he huffed and puffed through it. “Curse this…”

“Figured you’d need help.” Edward paused at the top of the steps. “You’re not well enough. Kyrie came to get me.” Leaning against the banister he shrugged. “Figured it would be less embarrassing to have me haul you out.”

“Less.” Gritting his teeth, he dipped his head under the water, running his hands through his hair before coming up. “Alright. I suppose we should just get this over with.”


	17. Fire Inside

Kyrie finished rendering her decision with Erimond. Maker be damned, he was going to be tranquil. She wasn’t going to make him the martyr he wanted or leave him the chance to escape. No this was far worse and his screams as he was dragged from the hall made it even better. “How could you!?” A scream broke from the back, a small group of mages. “A mage!”

“He is the worst of us and deserves the worst punishment. One made in honor of the worst things a mage can do. He sought to abuse all, mage alike and turned the mage Warden’s into the personal vehicles of demons. Tell me a more fit punishment? Tell me what you would have me do!” Kyrie’s eyes flared and the room went silent, many moving away from the small group of neigh Sayers. “Tell me!”

“N…” The leader stumbled over their words. “I… I…” their eyes bounced about the room looking for someone to guide them. “You are right.” Letting out a defeated breath they shook their head. “It does not seem right, but…”

“I would only use this punishment in a situation such as this. It is a blight against all mages that it exists at all. Another tool for the templars to control what they do not understand.” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breathe and regained her composure. “We are all better than that. And we will carry ourselves higher than fear, higher than anger and we will learn from what came before. Good day.” Spinning on her heel she needed to vent, to get away, to let the anger burn off. Pushing through the door to her quarters, she wasn’t thinking, not really, just stewing in the rage. Slamming the second door she stormed up the steps, needing to get to her private balcony. Hearing a muffled laugh broke her of her honed rage. “Kyrie…”

“Fa… CULLEN!” He was standing, barely, his arm around Edward, the towel loosely about his hips. Feeling the instant bloom of embarrassment caress her cheeks, she spun to turn her back. “Oh, I am so sorry. I… I forgot. I…” Waving her arms about she, utter one more apology before rushing back down the stairs and out into the main hall. Continuing her brisk walk, she found herself in the corner of Skyhold, near the stables. Sitting on a stump, her face upon her fists, elbows digging into her thighs she was still pouring over the image of Cullen. She’s seen him shirtless, the peppered marks from unspeakable horrors but not this much of him. He’d lost a good twenty percent of his muscle. But damnit he was still gorgeous. There was a chemistry that was binding her to him, and it terrified her. Rubbing her hands together she was playing with a bit of fire, teasing the flame over her knuckles, skating the burning sensation just shy of being painful.

“Kyrie,” Blackwall’s gentle reverb pulled her from her thoughts, dousing the little flicker of fire. “Blackwall, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there.”

“You’re sitting on the chopping block,” he snickered, the ax over his shoulder. “Josephine has requested a couple bundles be made up for travel. Would you kindly?” 

“Oh! Of course.” Rushing to stand she skated to the side. “Are you ready for the journey? I… I have a favor to ask.” Seeing him pause, log in hand she swallowed hard, “it’s... it’s a secret.”

“A secret. I am honored.” Blackwall’s gaze never broke from hers as he loaded the log a top of the stump, switching the ax to his dominate hand. “I am listening, but it is best to appear normal.”

“Right, right, of course.” Kyrie took a step to the side so she could be close but out of his range. “You know of Cullen. His strength will not be returned by the palace. I can get him moving, perhaps even get some on his weight back on, but he will not be optimal. I need you to watch over him, and… I need you to be ready to ride that night.”

“Ride?” Swinging the ax down with a thunderous boom he wrenched it free of the stump, tossing the two split pieces to the side. “Where does my lady wish to go?”

“I wish to avenge my mother, and I need someone at my side I can trust.” Pitching her voice, she stood straighter. “He will be in the Emerald Graves, an abandoned villa, just shortly after the Winter Palace. We can make the Graves in a day maybe two with a small party. I will not allow him to escape me.” Steeling herself she was ready for Blackwall to argue to try to convince her otherwise. “Done.” Blackwall nodded. “I’ll have an extra sack with supplies in our coach. I heard you and Cullen are to ride ahead. Be ready to leave after the speeches and fluffery. It’ll be the best chance we have to slip past Leliana and Josephine.” Placing another log down he paused, “who else are we taking?”

“My father. Do we need another?” 

“One more would be best. Just to even things up. I doubt your templar is alone, and if he’s dealing in red, he’ll be a bastard to take down.” Settling the log, he brought the ax up sharply before slamming it through the center of the wood. “Someone who can move quickly and keep a secret.”

“Bull.” They both uttered it at once and she nodded, “I’ll go speak with him now. He may need to prepare as well. Thank you, Blackwall.” 

“My lady,” he tipped his head and continued his work with the logs. Kyrie walked across the yard, making her way to the steps leading up to the tavern. Bull was easy enough to find, usually flirting shamelessly with the red headed serving girl. Sure enough, when she walked in, she saw him in his usual place, drink in hand. “Boss! Come have a drink. You look like you could use one. On me.” Patting his lap, he let out a belly laugh. Kyrie was far too used to his antics to let it ruffle her. Shaking her head, she strolled over and let Bull wrap her up and plunk her on his thick thigh. “You have something on your mind.”

“Of course.” Letting him rest his arm lazily about her hip she lowered her voice. “Can you be ready to ride after we save the empress? I…”

“Got news about the templar. Sure thing. I’ll have the packs ready. Blackwall is a good choice.” Smirking wide he chuckled before shoving a drink into her hand. “Edward already told me. Figured I was a good bet to keep a secret and get us away without Red knowing. He bet right.” Tipping his drink to her he knocked back the tankard. “Already packed and ready. I’ll come find you after the deed is done.” Motioning with his eye towards her drink she caught on and took a sip. Surprised to find cool water. “Thank you.” Smiling softly, she downed the rest of it. “Drinks later?”

“Of course. I’ve already packed a few skins. I think I can squeeze a few more.” Easing her down from his lap he swatted at her rear before breaking into a howling laugh and waving the serving girl for a refill. Heading back towards the main hall she decided it would be best to stop into Josephine’s office. Pausing she froze in her steps. Dancing. Why did you have to remember it now? She had never danced, not once in her entire life and now she was going to have to waltz in front of an entire judging Orlesian crowd. Swallowing hard she turn and plodded back down the steps, straight back to the stable. Blackwall was still whacking away at the wood, a chipper tune upon his lips. “Blackwall…”

“Yes, my lady?” Pausing he wiped at his brow, dragging the back of his forearm over his face. “Would you know anyone who could teach me how to dance? And before you offer Leliana or Josephine I would prefer a kinder teacher.”

Chuckling Blackwall grabbed for the cloth tucked into his back pocket. “Give me an hour and I can help.”

“You… you can dance?” 

“I need to wash up, but I can walk you through the simple steps.” Smiling wide he walked over to the well, drawing up a bucket of water. Peeking over his shoulder he grabbed the handle and doused himself with the cool spring water. Shaking his head, he drew in a sharp breath. “Seriously Blackwall, you never cease to amaze me. You’ve been everywhere. Done everything.”

“Not everything.” He chuckled wiping the droplets from his face. “But I’ve had my fair share of experiences. Go on, get your work done. Meet me in the stable here later.” 

Cullen grimaced as he barely managed the fifth crunch. Laying flat on his back upon the rugged floor by the hearth he threw his arm over his face. It was sinking in, how far behind he was, and how unlikely it was he would heal in time. Rolling to his stomach he put his hands out and pushing off the floor his biceps shook in pain. Barely getting five solid push-ups done he flopped to the ground, sweat clinging to his back.

“Cullen, I brought you some lunch. We need to… CULLEN!” Kyrie quickly stashed the tray on the table before rushing to his side. “Cullen are you…”

“I’m alright.” Grunting he drew his knees underneath himself. Trying to rise he growled, forcing himself to a kneel. “Damnit. Damnit all.” 

“Let me help you,” reaching for him she placed her hand in the center of his back. “May I…”

“Please.” Hanging his head, he closed his eyes, not wanting to appear weak. As weak as his body felt. Kyrie in turn didn’t want to bombard him with a surge of mana. Kneeling next to him she closed her eyes, slowing her own breathing to match the flow of her energy. Feeling and checking to see what she could, focusing on what she could mend. “You’re pushing yourself too hard.” Her brows knit together seeing the strained muscles. “You aren’t ready to do this yet. We need…”

“I don’t have time. How can I protect…” biting his tongue he clenched his jaw tight. “I… I need to move.” Pushing off the ground, he rose, stumbling a few steps before he came crashing down onto the bed. Kyrie gave him a moment, letting him process what she knew to be agony. He was a proud man, one used to tending to his own needs, to being able bodied and strong. At this moment in time he was like an infant. Rising she went to the tray, placing several bits of food on a plate she waited for him to move again. She’d caught the shudder of his shoulders and she was struggling not to wrap him up in her arms. Was that what he needed now? Pouring a cup of water, she turned to see him dabbing at his eyes, his cheeks red. “I’m here.”

“I know.” Not lifting his head, he pulled himself into a sit, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Continue, please.” 

Bringing the plate and cup she set them on the stand beside him before she took a seat on the bed. Deciding on gentler approach she took one of his hands in hers. “Relax, please.” Her body was pulsing, humming with an energy she needed to purge. Acting on instinct she took his hand and placed it over her heart. “Kyrie?” Without answering him she began, carefully weaving the energy around the aches and pains. Drawing out the tension and soreness until it was a shadowed memory.

His arms felt light, the gentle thrum of magic flowed through him, easily taming the wounded bits. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the pillow, feeling more tired than he did before. Slowly his head bobbed forward, until something heavy lay in his lap. Cracking an eye, he noticed Kyrie laying across him, her breathing deep and even. “Ky… Kyrie…” Barely able to stay awake himself, he placed his arm over her and fell asleep. 

Kyrie woke some time later, her neck stiff. Standing she stretched. “Good, rest will help.” Rolling her neck, she noticed the lateness of the hour. Blackwall would be expecting her. Quietly as she could she made her way out of her quarters and across the courtyard to the stables. Inside he was working away on a wooden griffin, carving out the feathered wings. “For the little ones.” He smiled as he laid the chisel down and dusted off his gloves. Peeling them off he took a horse brush from the table and ran it over his shirt. “One moment.” 

Nervously fiddling with the ties about her waist she started to ramble. “Being a healer in the middle of nowhere doesn’t give you many chances to dance. We never went to any of the local fairs or parades or…”

“Kyrie.” Blackwall touched her shoulders, “you’ll do just fine.” Slowly he showed her the proper holds, “It feels like a lifetime ago since I’ve done this.”

“It more than likely was. Did you learn to dance for the tournament?”

“Uh, yes.” Blackwall stammered out as he methodically took each step, mindful of her toes. “You’re catching on quick. Let me know if you wish to speed up. Most waltzes are a bit quicker than this.” 

“How did you learn to dance? You are very light on your feet.” Focusing hard on the steps, she nibbled at the inside of her bottom lip. “The Grand Tourney. Afterwards there is a large celebration. Food, drink and dance.” Blackwall beamed as he picked up the speed just a little at a time. “Have you never heard of it?”

“I know of the Grand Tourney. I never went. A life on the run and hiding leads to missing out on many things. Maybe one day I will see it.” Struggling to keep up she slipped, stepping on the side of Blackwall’s boot. Her instant reaction was to let go of his hand, to brace for the fall. The fall that didn’t come. He scooped her up tight, in his arms, the jarring motion slamming her chest against his. Both paused, cheeks tinted a soft pink as they gazed at each other. Kyrie was captivated by the silvery blue of his eyes, how the flames seemed to dance in their reflection. This was the closest she’d been with Blackwall, feeling his arms around her, his face so close; his lips. Her heart raced, the presence of his thick, strong hands upon her back, glancing down at his lips she caught his eyes move to echo hers. Edging closer, they both began to close the gap between them. Kyrie closed her eyes, feeling the heat from his breathe ghost over her lips. 

“Ser Blackwall.”

Pulling back smoothly, he helped right her, “yes. Speak.”

“Ser Edward requires your aid in the training ground. Right away ser.” 

“Understood.” Blackwall nodded, stepping back to collect himself. “Perhaps more practice later,” sharply nodding he quickly paced off to follow the messenger. Kyrie was left blinking and confused, the fire inside left unchecked and still lit. Rolling her neck she decided it may be best to get something to eat and turn in for the evening. There was little else to do and with one day left to go, she was certain it would be a major day of meetings and other small ends to tie up. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she put her head down and began the slow walk to her quarters. 

Cullen was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into the dying flames of the hearth. Could he recover in time to be even half the Commander he needed to be? He was beginning to doubt it. Reaching for his cup he drained the last of the water, now room temperature and beginning to taste off to his tongue. Rising he took a few wobbly steps before coming to sit before the fire. Taking a couple smaller sections of wood, he started to feed the flames. Leaning back against the solitary armchair he let the heat begin to roll over him. Maybe Kyrie was right, he was pushing too hard. Maybe he was even undoing some of her hard work. Grumbling he tried to sort through his thoughts, all a jumbled mess as he watched the flames begin to coil and bite into the new fuel. 

Pulling it out of his pocket he gazed at the simple markings, the embossed face of the Blessed Andraste. How the edges had patina from time and worrying. Where some spots had nearly been rubbed smooth. He didn’t want to admit, that through the mental torture of feeling this weak, that he wasn’t in pain. Wasn’t feeling the usual burning and need that scratched at the back of his skull daily. It was an entirely new experience to be without it. To not want it or crave it. There was fear still there, a fear that maybe he could slip back down the path. That seeing the little blue bottle might make him insane. But for now, luck seemed to be on his side. Stashing it back into his pocket he was certain he’d heard the click of a latch. Kyrie or Edward would be coming to check on him. But he had no urge to rise and return to the bed, no he wanted to stay by the fire. Feel its warmth dance along his skin in a way he’d never experienced it. Or perhaps it was so long ago now that it felt like the first time.

“Cullen?” Kyrie called out, not seeing his form along the bed as she came up the last step. With the tray in her hands she paced to her desk. Sliding it neatly she just caught him out of the corner of her eye. “Feeling any better?” 

“A bit. I want to apologize for earlier. My temper was not the best. I was. Am. Frustrated at my lack of ability. I am not used to being as I am now.” Drawing one leg up, he rested his arm over his knee. “But I am thankful.”

“You mentioned that we are even. What did you mean by that?” Kyrie paused her movements, the plate for him already made. “When you stayed to defend Haven. I searched the wooded area near the camping ground. Cassandra pulled me back twice before I thought I spotted something moving out in the night. By the Maker’s grace the moon was full, and the weather calmed. I raced out, without thought of my own safety or health. I reached you just as you collapsed.” Giving up the thought of getting up he sighed. “I carried you the entire way back, through near hip high snow.”

“Oh.” Kyrie swallowed hard, not knowing what to say or do. Picking up the plate she brought it over to him. “You need to eat. And… thank you.”

“I believe you’ve saved my life a few times. If I am right, I still owe you.” Taking her hand as she passed the plate, he gave it a soft squeeze before letting it go. “But I have a long way to go, and very little time.” 

“Eat. Then sleep. Come tomorrow, I think you will be well enough for a small walk. We can better gauge how you are fairing then.” Trying not to think more on any of it she returned to her desk, eager to forget today. All of today. Blackwall, the dance, pressed against him. Cullen, his nearly naked form. There was too much and not enough. Resting her cheek upon her fist she picked at the food, reading over the new letters. “Damnit.” Huffing she caught the notice from Leliana. “Change of plans Inquisitor. We believe there has been a compromise to your travel dossier. You and the Commander will leave by daybreak. Tomorrow. All has been tended to. Rest well and prepare. – Leliana.” 

“I know.” Cullen smirked. “Leliana delivered the word to me personally this morning. It was half the reason I attempted a small work out. I don’t want to be a burden on the journey. If we are attacked, I can’t…”

“I won’t let them harm you.” Kyrie picked the letter up off the desk, flicking it into the air it burst into flame, rendering to ash before it hit the floor. “Finish and sleep. It seems your short walk will be to the coach.”


	18. Simmering

Sleep was fitful for both of them and come morning light, Kyrie was dreading the entire affair. Halamshiral was still a four-day ride out, and someone was privy to their plans. Leliana had gone so far as to alter the travel route, tacking on a half day to the trip. Changed two of their stops and used coded names. Not that it mattered. Kyrie was the Inquisitor and Cullen had his own fame in Orlais. If someone was out to find them, they would. 

It took both of them to dress Cullen in his usual armament. Trying his best to appear the firm, healed Commander. Few in Skyhold knew what had happened, the story being he had fallen ill, nothing more. He managed the walk from her quarters to the coach by the front gate without needing help. Kyrie was in awe watching him put on a brave face, walking with the authority she’d come to recognize as all his own. But once the carriage began to roll out of Skyhold he started to paw at the clasps of his breast plate. “I… I can’t breathe.” His eyes were glazing over, the same look she’d seen before from many of the frightened and traumatized mages. “Cullen focus on my voice.” Rushing to aid him, her fingers worked the clasps holding his breast plate and pauldrons on. Peeling back the fur edged mantle she managed to get it off. “Deep breaths Cullen. You’re in a carriage, we’re on our way to Halamshiral. Come on, listen to me. Feel me, I’m real. You’re alright.” Taking his hands in hers she placed on over her heart. “Feel the beat, my breath rushing in and out of my lungs. Focus on that. Count the beats, match your breathing to mine.” 

“I… I’m alright.” Closing his eyes, he was focusing on the heat coming from her, the swell and fall of her breast. “Thank you.” Relaxing against the back rest he hung his head. “How did you know?”

“Know what? I’ve seen many who suffer from their pasts. Taking them from the horrors of memory always helps.” Keeping her face down she didn’t want him to see her eyes. He was already too aware of it. Gently he took her chin between his two fingers and pulled her to look him in the eye. “You are a poor liar Kyrie Trevelyan.”

“What do you want from me?”

“The truth. You have been hiding it from me since before Adamant.” Feeling his stomach roll he let her go. “Damnit,” he cursed under his breath, his arm coming to rest over the ache. 

“Hold still.” Kyrie placed her hand over his, feeling for the ache and soothing it. “You’ve done enough for today. It would be best…”

“You aren’t answering me.” Cullen gritted it out, the sweat clinging to his temples. “Why won’t you…”

“Not here. Not now. I… I will tell you once we make it to the inn for the night. Please, you need to rest and drink.” 

“Fine.” Cullen leaned his head back, feeling the full weight of exhaustion settle over him. “Tonight.” 

Guilt washed over her as she leaned back beside him. She’d put him to sleep, using a simple spell, something non-invasive. “I’m sorry.” Resting her head on his shoulder she knew she couldn’t avoid the conversation forever. She’d have to tell him how she knew and what she knew. 

Reading the papers Josephine had left for her, she managed to occupy herself while the carriage trotted along the marked path. Eventually they arrived at the first inn and in silence loaded out to get something to eat and rest. Cullen was still weak but put on a brave face. Arriving in their room Kyrie sealed the door with a simple protection rune before heading over to the bed. Her eyes were tired, the journey long and all she wanted to do was sleep. Flopping down she sighed at how soft the bed felt. 

“Kyrie, could you help me, please.” Cullen was struggling with his armor, again. “Sure.” Sitting up she squirmed to the end of the bed where she could easily reach the buckles and clasps. Finishing she yawned and crawled back up the bed. Shedding her clothing down to her bra band and smalls she curled up under the covers. Fluffing her pillow, she snuggled in, content to sleep. “Kyrie…”

“Sleep. I’m tired. I promise I will…” yawning she felt her eyes grow heavier. “I will explain. I promise.” 

Cullen grumbled, low in his chest as he carefully laid out his armor and clothes. The inn had prepared their meal and laid it on a small table in the corner. Kyrie didn’t even bother touching it and was softly snoring in the bed. Settling into the chair his stomach growled loudly. Picking through the meal, Cullen felt his eyes grow heavier, his stomach settle. Looking back, he saw her shimmy about in her sleep, a frown creasing her brow. He could tell she was searching the bed, he wished it was for him. Finishing the last bit of his meal, he went to the basin and washed up. Catching himself in the mirror. Running his hand over the heavy stubble he knew he’d have to shave before the ball. Drying his hands off he pulled the shirt over his head and laid it beside his armor. Looking down he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. He wasn’t wearing comfortable pants, that was certain. But would it be alright to strip down to his smalls? Reaching for the ties he shook his head. Taking them down he placed them with the shirt before carefully moving the blankets to get into bed, trying not to disturb her. 

As soon as he got under the covers and settled, she moved, wrapping herself around him. “Cullen,” she mumbled as she rested her head on his chest, her arm over his stomach. “Mmm Cullen.” Flushing instantly he wasn’t sure what to do. Her body against his was wonderful, a dream come to life and for her to utter his name, priceless. Letting his arm rest against her he heard her return to her soft snoring sleep. Closing his own eyes, he wanted it to last. Wanted the world to fade into this peaceful moment. But it couldn’t and he was old enough to know to take these short moments when they came. Time could be cruel; he was tired, and sleep came for him far sooner than it normally did. 

“Cullen,” Kyrie’s voice woke him from the nightmare, pulling him back to the moment. Gasping he rose to a sit in a flash. Struggling to regain his breath he blinked several times before he realized where he was. Instantly he flopped back onto the bed. “Damnit.”

“Are you alright? You were having a nightmare.” Kyrie’s voice was sleepy as she yawned and rubbed at her eyes. “I had to shake you. You were thrashing about and groaning.”

“Just… just bad memories.” Throwing his arm over his eyes he grumbled. “Without lyrium, they’re worse.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kyrie whimpered as she snuggled back up to him. “You sleep better when I hold you. I…” yawning again she threw her arm over him. “I’ll hold you. You’re so warm.” She purred as she curled around his side, throwing her leg over him. “Cully.”

“Cu… Cully?” Peeling his arm off his eyes he noticed she was back asleep. Staring at the ceiling through the darkness of night he knew well enough how to get back to sleep. It wasn’t hard to get to sleep, it was always an issue staying asleep. Even more so now with Kyrie’s words. ‘You sleep better when I hold you.’ It rang through his head, followed by the little nickname. “Cully.” He whispered it again into the stillness, silence answering back. After a few moments he fell asleep.

Kyrie was up early, but the heat kept her in bed. Cullen’s form wrapped around her, his arm snuggling her tight. She didn’t want to get up and she rationalized it that Cullen needed the sleep. There was also the fact that it felt so normal. Comforting to be cradled so tenderly, sweet, soft words occasionally coming from his lips. There was a sense of horror knowing she might ruin all of this telling him the truth. Soaking in his heat she heard him mumble her name, something sweet and light. Lighter than she’d ever heard it said before. “Good morning darling.” He’d said it in a half sleep state, clearly not awake or aware. “Good morning to you too Cullen.” She smirked wide feeling his body begin to tense up, waking to realize he was snuggling her. 

“Uh… I…”

“It’s fine. You slept well. How do you feel?” As he rolled away, she hid the bit of regret that tickled her tummy. She shouldn’t feel this way. He was her Commander and sick. It felt a bit wrong, like she was taking advantage of his weakened state. 

“I feel better, thank you.” Cullen tried to stifle the feeling rolling in his gut. There was something so natural and right waking up to her. Having her in his arms, speaking his name and caring for him. But he was her Commander, and she was only tending to his illness in preparation for the ball. It was probably nothing more than that. He needed to keep his focus on healing, on getting back into the shape he was before the withdrawal took hold and more importantly in securing a victory against Corypheus. Rising he reached for his neatly folded clothes and began dressing. 

Kyrie followed suit, quickly wriggling into the clothing she’d laid out the night before. Hearing a knock on the door she went to answer it; breakfast was ready for them. “The coach will be ready to continue once you are finished.” Lucas, the Inquisition agent charged with their safe arrival at the final destination tipped his head as he handed the tray to Kyrie. Turning she caught Cullen in the middle of tying off his vest. In the soft light streaming through the window she could see the hint of colour in his cheeks. See the sallow fading to more lush, pink skin. He was healing, and clearly recovering. It was bittersweet. Soon he’d return to duty, to his office and worse yet: his own bed. Fighting the ache down she cleared her throat, “let’s eat and we can get moving.” 

Eating in silence, she wasn’t entirely sure how to bring it up let alone how to explain it. With breakfast finished, they quickly got into the coach. Cullen was feeling much better, still a bit weak but more himself. As the coach rattled along, he finally worked up the nerve to speak, “Kyrie. I think…”

“I need to be honest with you and I am not even sure how to start.” Wringing her hands together she didn’t look up. “I know you’ve asked, and I do have an answer, I am just terrified.”

“Terrified? Kyrie…”

“I know Cullen. I know about Kinloch, and not all of Kirkwall but the important things. About Uldred and…”

“Maker’s breath.” Cullen leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “But… why were you terrified?” 

“You don’t understand. It’s not like I heard about it or that you mentioned it in your sleep. I… I saw it Cullen.”

“What?” His brows scrunched up as he tried to figure out what she meant. “When you were in a deep fever, I tried to pull the heat out. You started to thrash about and utter something about stopping. You wouldn’t let go of my wrist and I had to hold you to calm you. I… I fell asleep and… Cole helped. He took me to your memory, in a dream, I think. He showed me what happened to you. I…” choking down the lump in her throat she felt the tears well up. “It was horrible. I can understand why you hated mages. Why you might hate someone like me. I…”

“Kyrie.” Cullen reached for her hands, stopping their nervous movements. Taking her them in his he summoned every bit of courage he could. “I don’t hate mages. Further I know well enough who was to blame for Kinloch. I was young, angry, and originally, I blamed mages. I thought all of them were like Uldred. All of them wanting power, and control over everyone. Over time, with the help of someone special, I learned otherwise. I realized that there are villains in all walks of life, in all different shapes and sizes. Some wearing the same armor I vowed to wear.” Hanging his head, he drew in a breath. “You’ve seen and shared in something no one else has ever known. I… I am not sure how to handle that, but I do not feel anger or hatred towards you. It seems as though you only wished to help and better understand my… suffering.” Raising his head, he looked into her eyes, tears softly spilling down her cheeks as he bit down upon her bottom lip. “I appreciate everything you have done.”

“Th…Thank you.” She sniffled trying to calm herself. “I… I thought you would be angry. I had… I had no right to…” barely able to contain herself she was borderline hyperventilating. “Take a couple deep breaths,” Cullen ran his thumb over her knuckles in a circle pattern. Letting out a weak chuckle he shook his head. “You could have spoken to me about this. I am not angry with you.” 

Taking in a deep breath she could only nod back before she curled up in her seat, “I’m tired.” 

“Come here.” Pulling her into him he eased her head onto his shoulder. “Rest.” Taking a collection of papers out he focused on reading she while calmed and lightly napped. The journey to the next stop went as well as the first. Night was the same. Kyrie crawled into the bed, same as she had for the last week, with only one change. “Cullen. Come to bed.” Patting the pillow beside her, her cheeks red she was thankful for the darkness of the room. “You aren’t fully healed yet and tomorrow I will check your progress.” 

“A sound bit of reasoning.” Cullen was overjoyed for the darkness of the room, because it hid the smile upon his face. Stripping down, he felt more comfortable as he climbed into bed, pulling the blanket up. Laying on his back, instantly Kyrie came to his side, resting her head upon his chest. “Good night Cullen.”

“Good night Kyrie.” He sighed it out, perfectly content. For the first time in a long time, genuinely content. Uttering a soft prayer, he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. An old trick to calm his body and get to sleep. 

Morning was the same, except for one added thing; a raven. Leliana sent word of their progress and nearly a dozen other letters. As the carriage jostled along to their final stop, Kyrie read through them after Cullen. Turning each to ash as she finished them. “I feel much better today,” Cullen uttered it as she flicked the last letter into the air. Dusting her hands off she smiled, “let me see.” Reaching out she placed her hand over his heart. Closing her eyes, she smiled wide. “I’d say you are much better. I’d still take it easy for one more night, then you can begin exercising, but slowly. Not full out. Maybe a couple of this and that, see how it feelings. I can mend the muscle if you want to try a little bit tonight.”

“Then I wish to try.” Cullen leaned back in his seat, looking out the window, “we should be there soon.” 

“Good. Leliana says they are a half day behind us and should arrive by midday tomorrow. Then we will have time to coordinate before heading to Halamshiral the next night.” Settling back in her chair she was glad the journey was nearing its end, but she was also scared and sad. It would mean the end of staying with Cullen. It would mean she would have to face the Grand Game, and the wicked eyes of the Orlesian nobility. But they were only a blip in her way. She was so close, looking out the window she could feel it. Edward would be leaving Skyhold within the next two days in order to meet her at the inn just outside of Halamshiral. It wasn’t the one they were heading to now. No, this one was clear across town, and Edward had been sure to set it up. Surely under an assumed name. He was to send word tonight with details. Details she hadn’t shared with Cullen. What would he think, knowing she was slipping away to get revenge? That was something she couldn’t bare to think on. She’d already penned the letter she was going to leave for him. Explaining everything. Hopefully, he could forgive her and understand why she couldn’t ask him to come along. There was still concerns that he wasn’t going to have the stamina he needed for a fight if one were to break out. Nibbling the inside of her cheek she was too deep in thought to notice they had arrived at the inn.

“Kyrie, we are here.” Cullen chuckled as she jumped. “Are you alright? You seem to be lost there.”

“Just going over the plan for the ball. I… I’m not entirely comfortable with it.” Rising and exiting the coach she felt terrible for lying to him. It wasn’t a full lie, but it stung all the same. “Come on, dinner should be waiting for us.” Doing a quick look about she made her way into the inn, two Inquisition agents met her and escorted them to their room. “Sister Leliana has stated we are to keep an eye out and report back.”

“Thank you. Is dinner prepared?”

“Yes, my lady, it is awaiting you both in your room.” Pressing his fist to his chest the agent bowed and left them to their own. With her plan in place she went to the food. Taking out the small vial she sprinkled the powder in the stew, stirring it quickly before turning to Cullen. “It smells good. Come eat, then I can check you out properly.” 

“Thank you.” Cullen smiled and sat with his bowl. After they finished their meal Kyrie sat on the bed. “Alright, let’s see.” 

“Let me get comfortable. I’m… I’m very tired.” Cullen grumbled as he tugged his shirt over his head. Pulling himself up the bed he laid his head on the pillow. Kyrie settled beside him, placing her hand upon his chest she smiled. “Shhh, this will be quick I promise.” Checking him over she was pleased he was healing nicely. “You can start doing a bit of work tomorrow morning before we have to get ready. I will tend to it…” catching him snoring she sighed. “I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Rising she went to the window. Whistling she caught the flapping of a messenger bird. It swooped down to the windowsill. “Always on time, Baron Von Plucky.” Petting the bird’s head, she passed him a bit of meat she’d saved. Untying the note upon it’s back she smiled. “Take your time, then off home. Your mistress will be looking for you.” 

“Kyrie, I’ve made the first stop. Rylen is in control of the men for now. He has sworn to secrecy and I trust him. I’ve brought extra supplies and will be able to reach the inn by the end of the ball. It will be under the name: Edward Thames. They’ll be expecting a Kyrie Thames. Be safe my precious daughter. I love you, and I know you’ll do this. -Edward.” 

Flicking it out the window she reduced it to ashes in a breath. Feeling better about tomorrow she closed the window and went to the hearth. Piling a few logs in she set it up for the night. Yawning loudly and long she felt the exhaustion seep into her as well. Tomorrow would be a flurry of events all leading to her escape. Joining him in bed, she coiled herself about him, resting her head upon his chest. Pouring more energy into him she focused on boosting his healing and stamina. Come morning, he would be able to do a small workout, and by the ball he’d appear no less the man he was before. Many hadn’t seen him outside of his armor, so the fact he wasn’t back to his usual shape wouldn’t be a factor. Feeling her eyes grow heavy and the fog of sleep drift over her she placed her hand over his heart. “Good night Cully.” She mumbled before slipping into a restful sleep.


	19. Burn

Morning came sooner than she wanted and instantly Cullen was up, trying to perform some of his usual exercises. Kyrie found it hard not to watch as he began with sit ups and push ups, sweat beginning to bead up at his temples. Seeing how hard he was pushing himself she wanted to deny the burning under her skin, the urges beginning to build. “Cullen?”

“Yes, Kyrie.” Flipping over to his back he continued to push himself. “I feel great. Thank you.”

“Leliana should be here soon. We’ll need to get ready shortly. And… bathe.” Kyrie flushed red as she looked to the corner, a stone tub inlaid in the floor. “You… should go first. I can heat the water for you. It… will aid in your healing.” Watching his stomach muscles clench and flex she was struggling to keep focused. Rising from the bed she went straight to the tub and dipped her hand in. Filling it with ice she melted it, easily bringing it to a steaming pool of perfection. Grabbing a bottle off the wall she added a bit of soap to the water, a soothing oil as well. Turning to let him know her jaw nearly hit the floor. He was nearly naked, the towel tied about him the only coverage. “Thank you,” he smiled as he came to sit on the edge of the tub. “I… uh…”

“Right.” Rising sharply, she went to the window, “I’ll see about Leliana.” 

Cullen slipped into the water, leaving the towel by the edge. It was blessedly hot, soothing every ache that was pulsing through his body. Sighing he settled against the tub wall, letting the water work its way through each stiff muscle, release each bit of built up tension. Hearing her speaking to a carrier bird he knew well enough their day was about to get busier. After all the ball was to take place at nightfall, the Orlesian’s well known for their theatrics. Which worked out fine enough for him. They’d be able to get their people in much easier in the darkness of night than the bright sunlight of day. Reaching for the bottle of shampoo he slowly scrubbed and washed, his mind going over every bit of information. They expected him to coordinate the main room, to have an eye on the people coming and going. Being ready for the call to arms.

Kyrie got word their garments for the ball had arrived, as had her people. A sharp knock at the door denoted their breakfast and clothing. Cracking the door, the Inquisition scout calmly passed her both her and Cullen’s dress wear. Once Kyrie had set those on the bed she returned for the tray. “Sister Leliana requests that we leave before the sun begins to crest down. It is a couple hour journey to the palace.”

“Thank you.” Kyrie nodded and shut the door. Time melted away as she gleaned through her information. Reading over every bit of nuisance she could in regard to Orlesian customs and the Grand Game. Seeing Cullen begin to rise from the tub she turned her back, granting him privacy while he dried and began to dress. Focusing her energy on the water she dispersed it before refilling the tub. With her head down she went straight for the tub, eager to get her bath done and ready for the ball. Her only concern was the dance. Blackwall had only managed to teach her once, and she felt entirely unprepared. Undressing she sunk into the heated water. Seeing Cullen in his dress jerkins she saw him look over his face in the mirror. Grumbling he reached for a small bag from his travel sack. Setting up his shaving supplies he set to work. 

Dipping her head under water she washed and scrubbed. Applying the softening cream to her hair she piled it up on top of her head before resting her arms over the edge. There was something nearly hypnotic about how he tended to his shaggy face. Lathering and applying the foaming soap before carefully gliding the blade over his cheek. Wiping it off on the edge of a towel. Little by little she saw the Commander she’d known come back. When he finished and rinsed his face, he pulled out sheers and began trimming his hair. Snipping and carefully preening until the loose waves were tamed into his usual look. 

Once again, she dipped down, finally rinsing the last of the soaps and lotions from her. Focusing she evaporated the water, a cloud of steam encircled her as she rose from the tub and walked to her side of the room and began dressing.

Cullen struggled not to look; her silhouette visible through the dense steam swirling about her. Kyrie was a beautiful woman, similar in height to Cassandra, but not as fit. She was thicker, firm thighs, heavy chested and he had to focus on combing his hair to avoid extra thoughts. There was a carefree feel from her, a comfort within her own skin that he found powerful. And a long gashing scar running from her hip up across her chest. He could just make it out without seeing more than that. It was a blade, that much he knew, he’d seen slashing wounds before. Averting his eyes again he tided his mess and packed his kit. 

Tying off the bra band she looked at the red jacket and blue sash. It was ugly. That much she thought everyone would agree with, but she also had to admit that it was practical. There hadn’t been time to have a proper dress made and tailored to her. Pulling on the pants she was thankful at least they fit. She’d lost a bit of weight and gained a bit of muscle. Walking and travelling, casting and killing was having effects on her. Changing her body into something she wasn’t used to, something new. Pulling the jacket on she buttoned it down. It was a bit snug but comfortable enough. She stretched from side to side, checking the flexibility of the outfit. Confident she could handle anything in the outfit she noticed the leather lining of the jacket. “Leliana thought of everything.” Cullen cleared his throat as he finished button his. “Seems these jackets are lined for added protection. Well thought out.” 

“Yes. Flexible too.” Nervously tying off her hair, she coiled it up top of her head. “We need to get moving. Leliana wants to meet and co-ordinate.” Stashing a small knife in the sash about her waist she looked back over the room, knowing she would never see it again. Collecting a scroll from her pack she waited for Cullen to move towards the door before placing it upon the pillow. It was in plain sight, somewhere he would easily see it when they returned later that evening. Pausing she grabbed it and stashed it in the pocket of his mantle. Less likely to be swiped by someone she didn’t want to have it. 

Things ran as smoothly as she thought they would. Standing on the edge of the balcony, her jacket partially torn, blood splattered against the pants and bottom of her shirt. Tugging her gloves off she pulled her hair down, eager to retie it. She’d said her speech, had her glass of wine and was waiting for the signal. Blackwall was to distract Josephine, Bull to interrupt Cullen and that would give her a chance to leave. Hearing Blackwall’s voice she quickly looked about, gazing over the guard rail she knew she could make the small ledge and down to the ground floor. Hopping over she moved as quickly as she could, shedding the vibrant red jacket. Disappearing into the streets below she moved from shadow to shadow until she found the pack. Hugging the back of a building she stripped down and changed into unassuming clothes. Pulling the hooded cloak over her head, she tugged the black leather gloves over her hands. Gazing at her palm she couldn’t see the soft green pulse. Burning the clothes away, she continued towards the inn. It would be at least an hour walk across town. Possibly longer. 

Edward sat in the hotel room, concerned about the growing hour. Kyrie should arrive soon, then Blackwall and Bull. They would need to move at first sunup in some hope that they would meet up with their target. 

Arriving at the inn, she checked once more over her shoulder. Confident no one had followed her she opened the door. Heading straight to the inn keeper she asked for Edward Thames’ room. Taking the key, she went down the hall and knocked on the door. Edward was quick to answer and usher her in. 

Kyrie was exhausted, letting the cloak flop to the floor she went straight to the bed. Resting her head down she mumbled something before falling asleep. Edward let her rest, greeting Bull and Blackwall when they came in. Before sunrise Edward had everything ready to move out, horse packed and mounted.

Cullen half kicked the door into the inn, searching through everything only to find no trace of her. Flopping down on the bed, he was exhausted. Fighting the Venatori in the main dancing hall had drained what little energy he had left. Knowing that Kyrie had skipped into the night was driving him mad. Where could she have gone? And she had Blackwall and Bull with her. There was at least a bit of a chance that she wasn’t in over her head. He cursed his body, the weakness, the lack of his usual strength driving him mad. Knowing full well he needed rest he slipped off the uniform and crawled into the empty bed, frustrated more than before. Frustrated at the coldness and emptiness beside him. Enduring a fitful night, he rose to eat and make their way back to Skyhold. Going to put on his mantle he felt the scroll as it brushed against his arm. Lifting it from the inside pocket he untied the ribbon.

“Cullen, I’m sorry for what I did. There wasn’t anything else I could do. He’s here. Not far anyway and I didn’t want to ward him off. Templar Carroll. By the time you read this we’ll be on our way to deal with him. It just bonuses that he is a lyrium runner for Samson. Edward, Bull and Blackwall are with me. Please, don’t follow. We’ll be back to Skyhold as soon as we can. You are healed. Completely. Eat, sleep and begin rebuilding. I expect to return to a healthy and fit Commander.”

Staring at the paper he knew the name. Carroll. He’d been a templar at Kinloch hold, the one in charge of manning the ferry to the Circle. The one who nearly got him, and the few remaining survivors killed. He was instantly torn again. Between wanting him dead and pitying him. To fall to the red lyrium, the burning madness he’d seen in the few they had captured was above and beyond torture. Worse than anything he could imagine. Torn between the two thoughts his head swam. Where had she gone? When would she be back and more importantly had she taken enough precautions? 

Leliana and Josephine were no more impressed than he was. All three grumbled and stewed as they rode to Skyhold, all too aware that they needed to be back. Back to watch over things while the Inquisitor dealt with business. Thankfully business that did impact them as a whole. 

Kyrie stoked the flames, stacking several more logs on the fire before turning back to the group. Come noon tomorrow they would meet up with Carroll. They’d already taken out the two groups around the abandoned Comte’s estate. Hunkered down inside they had a position set up to surprise the man, in hopes that the red lyrium hadn’t increased him into some brute. 

Tearing a few more branches off the stick in her hand she threw them on top of the pile. They hadn’t received any word since their dash from Halamshiral. She wasn’t sure if sending a letter now would be wise and she’d written it at least twenty times. Burned over half her supply of paper too. Letting out a long sigh, she eased her face upon her fist. There wasn’t any good way to report back anything, and they hadn’t even finished the task. “You’re wearing a long face, my lady.” Blackwall sat beside her, placing another log into the brazier. “Come morning this task will be done.” He passed her a skin filled with wine. “You should rest. I will take night watch.”

“I can’t sleep.” Kyrie popped the top of the skin open and downed several gulps. Eager to take the edge off the nerves that were boiling through her, running each through her like a million live wires. As the alcohol burned the entire way down her throat, she knew it was Bull’s horrid brew. Yet it did nothing to settle her nerves. Passing it back to Blackwall she shook her head, “I have wanted this for so long, I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I dreamed about it from the first day, but now…”

“Revenge is a strange creature.” Blackwall let out a heavy sigh. “But this isn’t just revenge. Ser Carroll crossed the line. Now he is a Knight-Captain for the fallen Order. He should be put down. Quickly and efficiently.” 

“Perhaps. I’m, I’m probably just over thinking it.” Drinking down a few more gulps she handed him back the skin. “I’m going to try to get a little sleep. Thank you, Blackwall.” 

“Anytime.” Patting her thigh, he rose and assumed patrol. It was a fitfully night for Kyrie and Edward. He was wired, eager to get to Carroll. When the sun began to crest over the sleepy estate, he was ready, his sword sharpened, his prayers uttered, and everything prepared. Checking his armor over again he poked his head out, checking the position of the sun. Carroll was set to make an appearance before the sun rose over the tip of the highest tree. Going back to Kyrie he gently woke her. “Get ready.” He whispered it, just low enough for her. Together they readied. Kyrie woke Bull and Blackwall, collecting them before heading into the courtyard. As the sun began to tickle the top of the treeline Edward drew his sword. Kyrie regripped her staff, more than ready to attack. “Archer!” Blackwall shouted as he threw his shield up, catching the arrow meant for Kyrie. This gave her enough time to locate the direction it came from. Sending out a few orbs of fire the howls of agony flooded the area. “It’s too open.” Bull growled as several men came around the overgrown hedges. Edward charged ahead, “Carroll, come out and face us.”

Something growled loudly as it moved into the courtyard. Massive in stature he moved with power, each step a thundering wave. “Maker!” Kyrie gasped. The man she’d seen what felt like forever ago was now the hulking brute storming towards them. Red crystals jutted from his shoulders, his sides, chest and back. Several smaller ones protruding from his forearms. His face was hidden behind a heavy helm, only two glowing balls of crimson stuck out against the shadowed veil. 

Edward charged in, trading blows with Carroll while about them the battle continued. Kyrie couldn’t get a single shot off, her father far too close to Carroll to risk throwing any magic at him. Let alone the near constant spell purge radiating around the man. Struggling against a few on her own, she could only catch glances back and forth of her father. Felling the rogue behind Blackwall, she heard a howl. Spinning she caught Edward stumble forward. Screaming she watched her father tumble to one knee before rising again, his timing perfect as his blade caught up under the only exposed section of Carroll’s chest plate. Twisting the blade home Edward rose up, thrusting as hard as he could. 

Bull came rushing in from the side, leveling Carroll with a thunderous blow from his ax. Kyrie ran to her father, encircling them in a ring of protective fire as the fighting continued about them. “Father speak to me. Say something.”

“Its just a scratch.” Edward grinned wide. “Stings like hell.” Raising his arm, she saw the line of scarlet. “It’s not deep.”

“You… I…” With trembling hands, she tried to steady herself. Placing a hand over his side she closed the wound. “Its shallow. Maker, I… Dad…”

“I’m alright. Sweetheart,” resting his hand over hers he smiled. “Its over. Your mother can rest well now knowing that justice has been served.” Taking a deep breath, he rose to his feet. “Lower the fire, we need to help your people.” Reach over he gripped the hilt of his blade, twisting it deep into Carroll before wrenching it free. “We can head home my darling.” 

Cullen read the parchment paper. They had successfully dispatched Carroll, gathered a satchel full of documents and were now soon to be only a day away. Edward had been injured in the confrontation, sustaining minor injuries to his side. Bull received minor cuts and Blackwall was in good health. Kyrie herself seemed more solemn in her writing. Something was wrong, that much he was keenly aware of. But there was nothing he could do but wait. Wait one more day for her return and his answer. 

She’d sent the letter some time ago, not entirely sure how to word everything. Maybe he would understand, surely it would be easier in person. Everything flowed through her in waves, a wash of relief and sickness, laced with a sweet poisoned bitterness. All this time, chasing, struggling against the weather, the Waking Sea and the anchor upon her hand to this moment. Only for it to feel hollow. Leaving her so empty. Everyone else was asleep, curled into their tents leaving her to tend to the fire and her mind. 

Swirling the flames about her fingers she tried to mold it, shape it into different forms. Toying with them she didn’t really have any direct line of thought. It was something she always did when her mind was empty, when she needed something to bleed away the torrent of emotions swirling inside. 

“Everything alright?” Blackwall eased himself in beside her. “Want to talk about it?”

“There isn’t much to say. I just, never thought about what would happen afterwards. Not that I have a great deal of choices.” Waving her hand, the fiery images dissolved into nothingness. “I am the Inquisitor, until we finally find Corypheus and destroy him. Then. What am I? What will I become? Perhaps, I’m thinking too far into the future, but it is something I think on.”

“I see.” Blackwall caught her slight quiver and wrapped an arm around her. “You are more than just the Inquisitor. Never forget that.”

“Thank you,” resting her head against his chest, Kyrie let out a long sigh. “Sometimes I forget there was ever anything other than being the Inquisitor. I find it difficult to ever remember being anything else. Mother had me doing so much, learning and healing. Helping and now, I guess that’s what I do now. ”

“You are doing good and your mother would be proud. But don’t forget you are your own woman Kyrie.” Stroking her hair Blackwall let out a soft chuckle. “You have been someone who has inspired me to do good, to be better. Never forget that was all you Kyrie.” Rubbing his hand over her arm he let out a long sigh. “Never forget.”

“You’ve always been so kind to me Blackwall.” Sitting up she felt the same sensation crawling through her she had felt when he showed her how to dance in the stable. Her eyes went to his lips, and the heat began to build. “Gordon.”

“My lady.” How he uttered it she melted. It happened in a flash, a hungry dive as she leaned in, sealing her lips against his. There was a rush, a sudden emotional surge that poured through her, a welcome relief to the numbness she had been feeling. His hands were warm as they held her, sliding under her loose traveling clothes. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her up, carrying her towards the lone empty tent. Flinging the flaps wide he gently laid her upon the bedroll. Beyond that, nothing required words. Both were absorbed in each other a rush of flesh and heat.


	20. Ice Fire

Rolling over Kyrie was aware of the emptiness beside her. Rubbing at her eyes she quietly rose. Blinking she wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. Reaching about for her clothing she dressed, lifted the flap of the tent and peeked out into the breaking rays of early morning sun. Their camp was empty, not a single sound except for Bull’s stifled snores coming from his tent. Starting the fire, she thought for sure Blackwall had risen early, perhaps gone hunting for a good breakfast. 

Edward crawled out of his tent stretching his arms over his head before wincing at the pain. Kyrie had done a simple healing spell, enough to close the wounds and reconnect the muscle but not enough to fully mend it. She hadn’t had the energy, nor did he want her to. They weren’t completely out of danger until last night when they arrived at their camping site a half days ride from Skyhold. Edward had pushed them all hard, knowing full well time had passed since the ball and there was still work to do. Still a big villain to catch. Putting the traveling kettle on she went to make tea, something to help pick them all up and get them moving. “Good morning Kiki.” Edward strolled over to place a soft kiss on her cheek. “Before you ask, I slept like a stone last night. Feeling much better, if a bit sore.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Kyrie smiled as he came to sit next to her, soon to be joined by Bull. “Hey, you guys seen Blackwall?” Bull looked about. “His pack is gone.”

“His pack?!” Kyrie and Edward exchanged looks. “We need to get to Skyhold. Now.”

Cullen heard the horn blow, relief hitting him in a wave. He’d managed to pack his weight back on, sleep better and was hopeful that Kyrie was in a talking mood. Racing down the steps he paused as Kyrie came rushing towards him, “has Blackwall arrived ahead of us?”

“No. We have no…” Before he could finish, she’d flown past him, straight to the spymaster’s rookery. Grumbling under his breath he turned to Edward. “What?”

“Blackwall left. In the dead of the night while everyone was asleep. There was some ash by the fire that Kyrie doesn’t remember being there but beyond that we have no idea what is going on.” Shrugging he handed a scout his gear. “How goes the battle here?”

“We have no trace of Corypheus or his people as of yet. We are still trying to narrow down far too many players in the game. Our only consolation is we have powerful allies. Ready to go to war upon the call.” Cullen waved him to follow. “Come, I’ll buy you a drink and meal. We can talk best on full stomachs.”

“Good idea. Once Kyrie is calm, she’ll join us.” 

“What do you mean he’s gone? Where? Why?” Kyrie paced back and forth as Leliana read the letter mentioning a hanging to take place in Val Royeux. “What does it all mean?”

“I think you need to see for yourself. There is plenty of time to refuel and change before you need to leave again. I’ll have the fastest horses ready.” Leliana nodded before she paused in her step. “Cullen can take you. We have need of your companions here.”

“Right…” turning she read the letter again, this time the words more jumbled than the last. Something about a Thom Rainier. “Inquisitor,” Leliana’s voice snapped her out of her fog. “Can you meet in the war room? There is much to discuss.”

“Of course. Send word now. I’ll meet everyone there.” Stunned she descended the stairs, little of what had happened was registering with her. How could he have done this to her? All of it. Lied and left. With her head down she stormed straight to the war room. She needed something, anything to distract her from the pain and numbness swirling through herself. Passing through the massive oak doors to the war room she was alone. Upon the spot where she usually stood was a stack of papers and she was thankful for the distraction. Taking the first sheet off the top she read it over at least a half dozen times, the words not quite sticking. Rubbing at her eyes she struggled to focus. Pacing back and forth her hands shook, the hurt turning rapidly to anger. Screaming she let it all out, till her lungs burned and her throat was sore.

Cullen could hear her through the door and burst through. “Kyrie are you…” Seeing her crumpled in a ball on the floor he rushed to her side. Wrapping his arms around her he cooed. “It’s alright. Hush, breathe, it’s going to be alright.”

“Nothing is going to be alright.” Kyrie sobbed as she let the tears flow. Cullen stroked her hair, “we can do this in the morning. Let’s get you to your quarters.” Lifting her up he marched towards the door which Leliana had just opened and walked through, “not today.”

“Understood. I’ll send something up.” Leliana nodded turning to Josephine. Cullen continued his walk to her quarters. Taking her straight to her bed. Placing her against her pillows he turned to tend a fire and pour her a drink. “Cullen…” her voice was soft, barely audible. “What can I do for you?” He kept moving, trying to make things perfect, to ease whatever she was going through. “How… How did it feel when you heard Uldred was dead?”

Grabbing two cups he half filled them with the bottle of ale he’d seen on her desk. “Angry, disappointed, lost. I didn’t level the killing blow. I didn’t have my answers. I spent a long time being angry. Walking through several years of numbness, I… it took a long time to come to my senses.” Crossing the room, he passed her the glass. Swirling it in his hand he drank it half down. “I did things. Things I hate myself for.” Sitting on the couch Cullen watched her, waiting for her to react. “Father made the killing blow. He… he was injured. I was… I was so afraid.” Kyrie hands shook as she barely got the cup to her lips, gulping down several mouthfuls. “I thought… I thought for sure I’d lose him. He… he was bleeding.” Draining down the cup again she sniffled. “Then it was over. We were surrounded by fire, and Carroll…”

“Yes, Carroll. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you. You were going through Kinloch and all the memories. I… I didn’t want to bring up more pain.” Emptying her drink, she rose and refilled it. “You don’t need any more pain.”

“I deserved every bit I suffered.” Knocking back his glass he set it on the table. It was a long time coming, something he’d shared with few, told fewer still. He’d been forced from Kinloch, purposely sent away. Clearing his throat, he closed his eyes. “I… I took my revenge out on someone who didn’t deserve it. Because I was angry. It… I was wrong.” 

“Cullen, whatever you did, it was…”

“I killed him. I stabbed him to death in the middle of the library. In front of a group of children.” Spitting it out as fast as he could he drank down the cup, hands shaking. “I was so angry. My wounds hadn’t even finished healing and I was given my armor. Sent to patrol the library and keep watch over a couple small groups working on elemental spells. He… He bumped into me. Uttered that he wished Uldred had gotten us all.” 

“Cullen.”

“I lost it. Grabbed the dagger I had began keeping in my sash and… I don’t remember it happening. I remember blood being all over my hands and the rest was a blur. For days. The next thing I was aware of was the coach they put me in to take me to the sea. I was numb the entire boat trip to Kirkwall. Seeing the chained statues held in the courtyard I finally snapped out of it. For the first couple of weeks they let me adjust to how things were.” Cullen drew in a deep breath, pausing before he opened his eyes, staring at the floor. “Meredith stoked my fears, continued to build the fire of my anger. Feeding me nearly double the daily amount of lyrium. Maker, I was… It was…”

“Wrong. So very wrong.” Kyrie came to rest beside him, wrapping her arm around him. “You’ve been through a lot, survived even more. You’ve grown. Learned and gotten better as you went. I… I don’t think there’s anything I can say. You’re a good man Cullen. A good man, who’s made mistakes along the way.” Yawning she shivered, realizing the lateness of the hour. “Cullen?”

“Yes, Kyrie.”

“Please. Stay with me tonight.” Squeezing him lightly she placed her head upon his shoulder. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

“Kyrie, I…” shaking his head he paused. “You still want me to stay, knowing everything? Knowing what I’ve done.” He rolled the cup between his palms, his emotions barely in check. “I have never told anyone before. Never…” letting out a whimpering chuckle he looked up, catching her eyes. There was no judgement, no condemnation, no disgust and he was stunned. “You. You don’t hate me?”

“I was more concerned that you would hate me.” Snuggling into him she bit her lip. “I thought with everything that you went through, that you’d never want to be anywhere near me.” 

“Maker…” Cullen pulled her in tight and kissed the top of her head. “Come on. You’ve been through enough tonight.” Rising from his seat he took her cup and placed them both on her desk. Turning back to her he began unbuckling his breast plate. Resting it on top of the chair before looking over to the bed. “Are you sure…” Seeing her give a subtle nod, he untucked his shirt, dragging it over his head. “Kyrie.”

“Please, just, get in bed.” Untying her own bindings, she shimmied down to her smalls, the nightgown still folded upon her pillow. Easing it over her head she quickly got under the covers. When the bed depressed with his weight she shifted, wrapping herself around him as she always did. He was warm, pleasantly warm from his chest to his toes. Even his skin felt better, softer and more alive. Placing her hand over his heart she smiled at the steady, even, strong beat. “You’re better.”

“Much better, thanks to you. Now, get some rest. We shall have to leave far sooner than either of us would like.” Cullen placed his hand over hers, praying that this small act could bring her a bit of comfort. Comfort against the flood he knew was coursing through her. Feeling her move beside him he cracked open one eye. “Kyrie, it’s…” He lay there stunned as she pressed a kiss to his cheek before snuggling back down, not uttering a word. “Good night Cully,” she sighed before her breathing began to settle into the familiar sleeping pattern. Unable to think for a few moments, he simply laid there, the bloom spreading across his cheeks, her lips burned into his skin. “Good night, Kyrie.” 

Feeling the bed empty she grumbled, her hand searching for the body she remembered being there the night before. Finally, she rose, into a grumpy sit, arms folded across her chest. “Why does this keep happening.” 

“Oh Kyrie, you’re awake.” Cullen came up the steps, a tray in his hands. “I thought I’d run and get some breakfast. We just got word, we need to make our way to Val Royeux, there is little time to waste. Was there something I could get you?” Setting the tray on the bed next to her, he went to the desk and began pulling on his armor. “Uh, no, no, are we… My armor and staff I suppose. There were sent to be repaired.”

“Already checked in with the Undercroft. They will be sent up momentarily. Our packs are being handled, there is only the matter of personal effects.” Cullen finished securing one buckle of the breast plate before looking towards her. “From what Leliana says, this may not end well. We are prepared to follow whatever decision you make.” 

“Decision? Cullen what’s going on?” Plucking the steaming cup of tea from the tray she rose carefully, mindful of the food and drink. “You know what we’re riding into don’t you.”

“I have my suspicions, but I will not cloud your judgement with them.” Stepping forward he took the other cup of tea off the tray. “I should leave you to dress. I…”

“Please stay.” Kyrie shook her head. Silence was deafening and to be alone now ever scarier to her. “I just… I’m not ready.”

“Take your time. I… I shall sit over at your desk. There are some papers to catch up on.” 

Soon enough they were on their way to Val Royeux, a far quicker pace with just the two of them. Camping the first two nights of the journey was quiet. Kyrie didn’t have much more to say, other than her constant repeats of, “stay with me.” Cullen was aware that she was processing the events with Carroll, the Inquisition, and now Blackwall abandoning them. He hadn’t pushed, hadn’t asked about what happened. She spoke not a word of the night Blackwall left. Ashamed and still very angry with him. She’d grown to trust Blackwall, to appreciate and love his company. He was always a bright spot in her journeys. Keeping her grounded and feeling safe. Secure more than anything. Perhaps it was the sex, she’d pushed too far and that was why he had to leave. Crossed a line that she shouldn’t have. All the way she blamed herself, staying quiet for the fear of upsetting Cullen. 

When they finally arrived at Val Royeux the weather had shifted. Dark gloomy clouds had formed over the city, blotting out the sun and casting a shadow over the canopies of red. Kyrie felt the chill crawl up her back as people whispered and rushed to the center of the trader’s square. Cullen caught her arm, “stay close.” He moved with her, the flood of people pulling everyone towards the gallows. “Maker…” Kyrie swallowed as a haggard looking older man was roughly tugged up the steps. Two other men in full masks were preparing scrolls and rope. Her stomach dropped. After all she’d endured, all the killing, lies, evil deeds of men, this bothered her. Could this man be guilty? What if he wasn’t? How could anyone live knowing they may have killed an innocent man? It was so much easier when they were shooting arrows or slashing wildly at her. That required no thought, no time for rationalization. They were the enemy. This? “Look,” Cullen motioned towards a section of crowd beginning to shuffle about, someone moving quickly forward. 

“Stop!” His voice was unmistakable, and Kyrie felt her legs begin to tremble. “What is he…”

“This man is innocent!” Blackwall marched up the steps to the gallows, his attire less the battle worn veteran and more a regular man. Kyrie had to blink a couple times as the words he spoke filled the hushed gathering. When he uttered his true name, she was thankful for Cullen. His arm about her waist was the only thing keeping her standing. “Thom Rainier.” The man with the pompous attire proclaimed, “you are under arrest for the murders of Lord Callier and his retainers, children and wife.” Two more men in armor came forward, securing his hands in irons before hauling him off the scaffold. 

“Kyrie, they will take him to the prison. You are the Inquisitor. With favour to the Empress. You can easily get access to…”

“Take me. Before I change my mind.” Kyrie threw her shoulders back, trying to dry the tears welling in her eyes. She knew Blackwall, but this, Thom Rainier. Either way she needed answers. “Please.”

“Alright. This way.” Cullen led her through the ocean of people all chattering loudly about the revelation. About Thom Rainier, coming back from his escape, the death of the Callier family and the man who just was spared from hanging. Kyrie caught most of it. Learning as she went. By the time they crossed to the prison gates she knew a good sense of what had occurred. Digging into her pocket she pulled the scroll from Leliana, explaining the Callier deaths. It was barbaric. Horrifying to think Thom sent his men to kill them. Cullen uttered a few quick words and soon enough they were inside. It was no different than any other prison, that was what she told herself. 

“Inquisitor. Your Commander here has stated you wish to speak with the prisoner Thom Rainier. Is this true?”

“Yes.” Standing her ground best, she could the guard looked over at her then back to Cullen. Any facial expression he may have had was hidden behind the typical Orlesian masks. Finally, he nodded, “the Commander will stay here with us. You may head down to the cells. He is in the furthest one to your left.” 

Knowing full well she was going to have a private conversation, and the cells echoed he waited for her to be let down, the heavy steel cage door locked behind her. “May the Inquisitor have some privacy?”

“Ser, we cannot…”

“I take full responsibility while she is here.” Tapping the hilt of his sword he smirked. “Templar training, I doubt anyone could make it past me.”

“Well then Serah, we shall wait outside. You have a few moments. Use them wisely.” Bowing the two men quickly went out the front door while Cullen took his position by the caged door, hand still wrapped around the hilt of his blade.

Kyrie’s heart was in her throat, the echo of her shoes along the steps matching the hammering in her chest. Turning left at the base of the stairs she walked the wide corridor, cells surrounding her. Surprisingly it wasn’t full, maybe a man or two at best. Reaching the back of the jail she saw him, sat upon the bench, face in his hands. “You’ve come to chastise me too?”

“Blac… Thom.” Clearing her throat, she was struggling to contain her emotions. “I’ve heard about what happened, read the reports but I need to hear it from you. I have to hear your side.”

“You aren’t going to ask about me leaving?” Rising he quirked an eyebrow. “Fine. We’ll play this little game.” Crossing his arms, he went into detail, explain the money, the goal and the target. How he didn’t know Callier’s family was travelling together. Nor that the children would be there. It was as if he were on autopilot as he explained it all. “How did you become Gordon Blackwall?” Steeling herself she listened again as he went on to explain how Blackwall discovered him. Wanted to recruit him to the Wardens. How he’d followed the man with every intention of becoming one. Sighing out heavily he finished his story. “That’s it. Everything.”

“Alright.” Kyrie’s mind was whirling, the contradiction between Thom and Blackwall, the same man yet completely different. “Don’t you want to know?” Thom sneered. “I figured it would be your first question. Was it real? Did we have sex because it meant something or was it a means to an end?”

“No. I don’t want to know. And I don’t care. This conversation is over. I’m no child Thom. You are purposely trying to antagonize me. Trying to prevent me from forming a rational idea and formulate my own plan.” Seeing him flinch she laughed. “Maker, seriously? This is your grand plan? I know you Th…”

“You don’t know me at all!” He roared as he slammed himself against the bars of the cell. “The sex was good. I’ll give you that. But there was nothing there. Nothing.”

“Fuck you.” Kyrie growled back. “This isn’t over Thom. Not by a long shot.” Turning her back she ignored him as he cursed and howled at her. 

Cullen bit his tongue, hearing it stung, deep. Hanging head, he was trying to calm his breathing, keep the rational side of himself in check. Walking towards the front door he banged his fist. “All done.” Returning to the caged door he waited for both Kyrie and the guard. Maintaining a stone façade, he nodded when she approached. “Inquisitor, we should head to our way point before we discuss the events of Blackwall’s revelation.” He bit the words out, bitter and empty on his tongue. Knowing full well he had no right to be angry. No claim to her whatsoever. But it burned inside all the same, tearing him apart. 

She caught it, the hard clench of his jaw. He’d heard their conversation, and he was clearly upset. “Lead the way Commander.” Once they arrived, she was going to explain everything, and then, she needed to send work to Leliana. As she’d told Blackwall inside, this wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.


	21. Explaining

Releasing Leliana’s messenger bird out the window she looked back. Sitting in the chair, bereft of his armor, Cullen was rolling a tumbler between his palms, the amber ale swirling before he took another long dredge. “I can explain…”

“I am certain you can.” Cullen nodded before finishing it off and topping it back up. “I do not… There isn’t anything you need to explain to me.”

“But there is.” Kyrie sighed rubbing her forehead. “I was not in my right mind. Father nearly died and I was going through all these empty feelings and…” huffing she shook her head. “Blackwall was right on one thing; it meant nothing. I guess I’d hoped someone would mean something to me. But it was empty. Not. Not the same thing I feel when I’m with you.” 

Pausing he looked up from his drink. “With me? Kyrie you ran away, didn’t tell me a thing, got your revenge and then… slept with Black. Thom. I. Its none of my business.” Draining the drink again he filled it. “You aren’t… we aren’t… Maker take it all.” 

“We aren’t what?” Kyrie peaked over at him from behind the change stand just to catch Cullen clench his jaw. “Never mind.” Cullen hung his head before he knocked that glass back down. “I… I need some fresh air. I will be back shortly.” In his hurry to rise he half tossed the glass, causing it to tumble to the ground, shattering into a thousand jagged pieces. Not bothering to look back he strode out the door into the main inn, and straight out into the night. His feet kept their frantic pace, eager to put space between him and her. Between the gnawing anger bubbling up in his chest. He had no right to feel anything towards her, for her, with her. “Maker take me.” He kicked at the stones under his feet, hands buried in his pockets. 

Pausing he realized he’d trekked some way forward towards the prison. The moon above was solid, its light bathing over the area like a beacon. Staring at the door he moved, whether it was his idea or his feet he pushed through the door. Prisons never closed their doors, crime never functioned on a set time. “Ser Rutherford.” The guard from early lifted his weary head, “I thought you and your Inquisitor were done with the prisoner?”

“There are a couple unanswered questions. I will only require a moment.”

“As you wish. Leave your blade here.” Pointing to the desk the guard waited. Cullen smirked, “the sword does not leave my side.”

“Fine. If the prisoner runs you threw with your own blade, so be it.” Shrugging the man went to the door and unlocked it. Cullen kept his hand tight upon the hilt, his eyes locked on him before he finally descended into the depths of the cells. Around him the air felt heavy, thick with far too many scents and none of them pleasant. Remembering Thom was located in the back-left hand side he travelled there. Unsure why he stood back from the door, glaring through the dim light. “Thom Rainier.” 

“Commander Cullen.” Thom rose from the bench to get a better look at him. “She sent you to do her dirty work? Never thought it would be you.”

“I’m not here for whatever it is you’ve convinced yourself of. I have questions that need answering.” 

“Of course.” Thom leaned against the bars, a smug grin upon his lips. “I’m curious what those questions might be.”

“At the battle of Adamant, Inquisitor Trevelyan called upon you to speak to the Grey Wardens. You chose to speak, knowing you were never one of them.” His eyes locked on Thom, seeing him grow uncomfortable and begin to squirm beneath his gaze. “Your efforts saved the lives of countless men and women, on both sides.”

“Get to your question,” Thom’s voice lacked the usual bite he’d been giving. Sensing he was hitting a nerve Cullen continued. “You consoled the Inquisitor after the battle, staying with while she recovered.”

“Stop.” Thom slammed himself off the door. “She is innocent. I did everything to earn where I am. I wronged her, wronged everyone. Don’t, don’t you dare say one more word about her.”

“I see.” Cullen’s grin grew. “Then I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know your night together meant nothing.”

“I am.” Growling Thom threw himself upon the bench. “She deserves better. It was a mistake. Without me here to fret over like a child perhaps you can all have better.” 

Satisfied with the answers Cullen turned, “we shall see what she decides.” Strutting back towards the steps he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as Thom yelled after him, begging him to leave him to his fate. Banging his fist off the metal bars Cullen nodded politely to the man before walking out the main doors without another word. He’d gotten his answer. For whatever it meant. Holding his head high he made his way back to the inn, back to their shared room. Slipping inside he could hear sniffling. Locking the door behind him he untied his sword, setting it upon the table by the entrance. 

“Cul…Cullen!” She shuffled up into a sit, drawing the blankets up about herself before she frantically wiped at her eyes. “I thought… I thought you’d left.”

“I needed a moment to myself. I apologize if I upset you.” Cullen quietly began removing his armor, setting each piece carefully upon the dresser. “Please, rest.”

“Are you…” sniffling again she didn’t move. “What happened? Where did you go?”

“I… I had to speak with Thom. Nothing more.” Unbuckling his vambrace he caught sight of the emblem of the templar order, embossed into the thick metal. Running his bare hand over it he couldn’t help the flood of emotions that began to tickle his throat. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what Cullen?” 

“Save me. Why did you risk everything to bring me back? To make this pain go away, to… to…”

“Cullen.” Kyrie rose from the bed while he talked, seeing the tremble in his shoulders she went to his side. Taking his hand in hers she placed the vambrace on the table. “I was a templar.” He gritted the words out, barely able to utter them. “I… I hurt people… I deserved…”

“No one deserves what happened to you. No matter what their crime.” 

“You are bias.” 

“No Cullen, I’m the least bias person in this room.” Chuckling she tugged him to turn around, to face her. “What’s going on Cullen? You’re acting very strange.”

“Nothing. I… We need to get back to Skyhold as soon as possible. We need to rest.” Letting the vambrace fall to the table he turned and moved towards the bed. Tugging his shirt over his head he bent over to untie his boots. There was far too much going through his head. His own self-doubt and lack of self-worth eating at him. Thom’s words ringing out, “she deserves better.” What was better? Surely not him. Not with the blood on his hands, not with the constant threat of his own death over his head. Bigger yet that he wasn’t telling her the truth. Despite her best efforts to heal him, he still wasn’t feeling like himself. His feet were still cold, his fingertips randomly going numb and tingling. Even more so he was dealing with his emotions, or the flood of them that threatened to drown him without notice. He’d heard of it before. Something like the rush of battle wearing off and leaving you tired, but with trauma. Placing his shoes neatly by the bed he pulled the blanket back and crawled under. Again, his feet were cold, the tips of his toes numb. Curling up on his side he didn’t want to think anymore, didn’t want to feel anymore. 

“Good night, Cullen.” Kyrie pulled the blanket up and didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to throw her arm over him and cradle him tight but he didn’t seem to want that. Rolling on her side she closed her eyes, eager to get back to Skyhold. 

Upon their trek back Cullen was quiet. He’d come to the decision while he laid in bed, listening to her softly snore. Maker knew he wanted that, to wake every morning next to her, wrapped in her. But she deserved better. Deserved a man that wasn’t a mess like he was. Those words echoed in his head, ringing and tormenting him. When they crossed the bridge, he politely excused himself and made a bee line for his tower. Slamming the door behind himself he paced back and forth, his body humming. “I can’t… I’m a selfish fool.”

“You want her to be happy. You make her happy. Right now, you are angry. He spoke from behind bars, trying to torment you into leaving him, forgetting him, he didn’t mean to hurt you.” Cole was swinging his legs from the loft above. “He wants to make it easier for her to let him go. Make it easier on everyone, but it doesn’t. It just hurts differently.”

“Cole.” Cullen let his shoulders drop, there was no use in hiding from the boy. Especially when he could dig into the pits of anyone’s mind and read it like a book laid bare. “It’s not that simple. Kyrie…”

“Is hurting. There is a deep ache inside, and you make it go away. She wants to tell you but she’s afraid. Afraid you’ll run away again and come back different. Come back hating her.”

“I could never hate her.” Running his hands down his face he struggled to fight the tears clinging to the corners of his eyes. “But I’m not… She deserves better.”

“You are better.” Cole’s words lingered as the steady rocking sound stopped. Looking up Cullen swallowed down the pain again, “I can’t…” 

Kyrie was busy, far too busy to think about anything and that was exactly the entire purpose. Leliana was coordinating the effort with Thom, Josephine requesting Kyrie go over every letter and respond personally while her friends begged for her aid. “Let’s go.” Tossing the pages back on her desk she snatched her staff up. “We need to tend to these things before we find Corypheus. I want you all at your best.” 

“Its going to take some time Kyrie,” Dorian looked over the group of companions. “We won’t be back for a month at least, possibly more.”

“Good.” Kyrie threw her satchel onto the back of her usual mare. “Let’s get a move on.”

Dorian looked over at Bull who gave him a knowing nod. “Right, I’ll stay here and coordinate with Leliana and Josephine. If there is any word, you’ll have it.”

“Thank you,” Kyrie smiled. “I’m waiting on news of Samson’s possible location. Forward that to us when you hear. We shall send word at every stop along our way. Anything important as well.” Kyrie waited for her companions to climb aboard their horses. “Blackwall, Thom, whatever. Can wait for my arrival. Think about whatever excuse or apology he needs to make.” Turning the horse towards the gate she caught Cullen half running towards her. “Heyah!” Kicking up her horse they flew out the door. 

“What…”

“She’s clearly upset. And I’d wager it was at you. Second, thankfully. I believe Blackwall or this Thom fellow holds the most of her ire. Come,” Dorian sighed waving Cullen to follow. “A game while we chat. Seems we have a bit to catch up on.” Motioning towards the garden, Dorian wasted little time in heading straight for their usual spot. Knowing full well Dorian would have more information about what was going on with Kyrie he followed. 

Several days passed before they received their first word, Kyrie and her team having arrived in the Hinterlands to tend to an issue. Varric wasn’t too forth coming on it and neither was Kyrie in her letter. Reading it over Cullen grumbled. She was out there again, in the middle of Maker knew what while he was stuck in his tower trying to piece together cryptic messages from Leliana’s scouts. There was reported movement, that much they’d seen, but nothing pinpointing an area of interest. Instead it raised more questions than it answered. Another two days passed, and the letter came from Kyrie again. Explaining that Varric would be returning to Skyhold with new information. 

Within another couple days Varric came riding through the gates, a large satchel upon his horse. He gave his report, begrudgingly, before retreating to his usual haunt. His mood and lack of words instantly had Cullen on edge. But there was much to do, Edward wasn’t fully healed, and Cullen was back to tending to training. Something that he doubled his efforts in, rebuilding his body and stamina. Time passed and between training, rebuilding himself and reports he found solace in playing chess with Dorian. Dorian, who kept his mind occupied. Talking through the entire event. Most times it was just noise to fill the void, other times it was Dorian complaining about Bull, and the times he listened the most was when it involved Kyrie. “She’s lonely you see. Bull is a good friend to her and does his best to help comfort her, but she won’t speak. He’s tried his whole ben-hassrath thing, but even then, she won’t speak. Just nods and sighs. She’s a wreck Cullen.” 

“I’m sure its…”

“You. Yes, quite frankly I’m surprised you didn’t need me to draw you a map.” Sliding his piece forward Dorian grinned. “Far be it for be to speak on you two but I think you make a stunning pair.”

“Dorian.” Cullen grumbled shifting in his seat. “Its not that simple.” Smirking he moved his piece. “I win.”

“Of course, you do. Ah, but it seems you have news. I’ll leave you two to it.” Rising Dorian paced off, leaving Cullen at the small table. Grumbling he was about to begin cleaning it when he heard Leliana clear her throat. “Did you wish to have a game?”

“No Commander. I bring important news. On Samson.” Placing the scroll on the table she grinned. “I have sent word to the Inquisitor. Her team should be in the area within the week. I…”

“I’m heading out.” Rising sharply, he stashed the scroll in his mantle pocket. “Samson is my issue. I will ride out to meet them. Edward is well enough to tend to the minor training and work here.” 

“Of course, Commander.” Leliana smiled wide before she tipped her head and turned to head back inside. Cullen instantly rushed to his office, eager to pack and as soon as daylight hit, make the lengthy journey.

“They’ve located Samson,” Kyrie’s brow furrowed as she read it over again. “It’s nearly a week trek from Skyhold, and from us. We should move as quickly as possible. If he catches wind, we’re onto him he might run.” Kyrie flicked the parchment into the air, rendering it to ash. “Come morning we can make our way to it. Cassandra are you…”

“I will head back to Skyhold. I… I need time to read this book and figure things out. Forgive me, Kyrie.” Dipping into her tent Cassandra didn’t utter another word. Kyrie looked over her small group. Bull had mentioned a potential partnership with the Qunari, in a month’s time. Several other members had decided to head back, leaving her only Solas, Bull, Cole and Sera. But there was a real chance that Sera would be heading back as well. She’d muttered something to that effect at the least. “Take the snowy wyvern’s heart and return it to Lady Vivienne.” Sighing heavily, she struggled to hold a smile. “I know you don’t want to be here right now.”

“Oi, don’t you start that puppy dog eyes with me.” Sera huffed before her shoulders sagged and she nodded. Something unspoken between the two. “Right. Take the bleeding thing to the iron bitch. No problem. Simple task. Like things simple.” 

“I know. Me too.” Kyrie squeezed Sera’s hand before they too parted ways towards their tents. Kyrie dipped off last second and slipped into Bull’s tent. “Hey…”

“Boss. Come on in,” Bull smiled wide and patted the space beside him. “Tell me all about it.” Letting Kyrie cuddle in he laid flat on his back, his arm encircling her. “You got a lot on your mind.”

“Too much.” Kyrie sighed out as she turned to face him, running her fingertips over the thick black tattoo running over his shoulder. “I figured time away would help, it’s done anything but.”

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder. At least that’s what the old women say.” Bull let out a long breathe of air. “It’s about the blonde templar isn’t it? Still stuck in your head. I can tell it isn’t about Thom Rainier, or Blackwall. Whatever he prefers to call himself.”

“I’ve figured that one out. He’s probably sitting in the cells of Skyhold. I am going to sentence him to the Grey Wardens. To become what the real Blackwall wanted him to become.”

“Interesting.” Bull snorted. “Poetic really. You going to send him straight away or hang on to him for a bit longer?”

“Seriously? We could use his sword. He’ll stay till we defeat Corypheus. But, like you said, that wasn’t my issue.” Brushing her hair back from her face she leaned up on her elbows trying her best to look Bull in the eye. “Ya, it’s about Cullen. I… What do you think? Of him, I mean.”

“He’s a good man. Been through hell and back but sticks to his morals and principals. Like I said before. He’s never hidden who he was, who he felt he’d become. All he did was focus on making it better, being a better man. But I’m guessing you didn’t need to hear me say that again. Cut to it Kiki.”

“What do I do? And I know that’s a stupid question, because you can’t tell me what to do. I don’t know how to approach him. How to talk to him about all this.” Flopping back down she sighed out heavily, “I don’t know what I want, let alone what to do. Or how to even do it.” 

“Try talking to him. Small words. Nothing too over inflated.” Bull let out a chuckle before he settled into his bedroll. “He’s a good man. Good choice. Just take it easy. Now get some sleep. We’ll be heading out come morning, and you need the rest.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” She huffed out as she snuggled back into him. “Thanks Bull.”

“Any time boss.” 

Cullen checked the edge of his sword, running his thumb carefully along the bias. Content with the sharpness he slipped it into its sheath. “Hey, you busy?” Edward poked his head into the empty smithy. “How’s your shield?”

“Lighter than I remember.” Double checking the bindings, he was content. “What can I do for you Edward? You look like you are fairing better today. How do you feel?”

“A little stiff but better. I came here to see how you were holding up. You’ve been avoiding me lately. Any reason why?” Edward took a seat across from him, settling in with a soft grunt. Cullen shrugged, “I’ve been busy. We still haven’t found evidence of Corypheus…”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Edward chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “You’ve been avoiding me for other reasons. What happened with Blackwall?”

“He wasn’t Blackwall. Simple as that.” Cullen rose sharply eager to get out of the room. “I have to prepare. It is at least a week journey to get to the Shrine of Dumat. Edward, I need you to…”

“It’s about Kyrie. That’s why you won’t talk to me. Cullen you like her. A lot. Why are you denying it? Why are you hiding from it?” Edward crossed his arms, the smiling widened as he caught Cullen flinch. “But something is holding you back. I’ve never seen you sit idly by and not reach for what you wanted.”

“It’s not that simple and… Damnit Edward you’re her father. You should know I’m not what she needs. What she deserves.” Hanging his head, he closed his eyes. “She deserves better than I. Better than I can give.”

“So you hold no title, what of it?” Edward rose and crossed the floor to stand before Cullen. “That does not make you any less of a man. We’ve seen it Cullen. People with title, land, wealth and when the tower crumbles where are they? Running from everything and everyone with as much as they can carry. You aren’t that man. That’s what makes you a good fit for her. I’ve seen how she looks at you. It isn’t one sided.”

At those words Cullen’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “You… you are toying with me Edward. That is a cruel joke.”

“Never. If you don’t believe me, then speak with her. Ride out, meet her. Join her party and see for yourself. Her actions, and yours will be all the proof both of you need.” Clapping him on the shoulder Edward nodded, “now if you’ll excuse me, I still need some rest. Taking over for the Commander is hard work.” Winking Edward strolled out the door, whistling one of the songs from the tavern. 

“Speak to her. Were it only so easy.”


	22. Building Heat

They were a day’s travel from the Shrine and Kyrie was restless, pacing back and forth; unable to settle her stomach. Fighting red templars was never easy and she didn’t even have half the team she wanted. Solas was a mage, which meant like her, he’d have to keep his distance. Which also meant Bull would be at the forefront facing the slew of swords and shields. Cole was more efficient, but he was also at risk with the red lyrium. At least that was her main concern. Something Cole reassured her was impossible since their trek to the Hinterlands. “I’m more spirit than human now. Red lyrium is angry and it sings but I can ignore it. There are bad people that need to be stopped. We will stop them.” Cole offered a gentle smile before coming to rest beside her. “You are worried. This fight may be too much. We have help coming. Soon.” Cole’s gaze drifted over her shoulder and instantly she turned. Sure, enough there was a lone rider coming over the dirt path, a cowl pulled up over their head. “Who…”

“He wants to be here. Needs to be. He’s worried, this will be dangerous. He can’t protect you from behind stone walls. There’s a lot to talk about. I’ll help where I can.” Cole disappeared, the soft tingle at the base of her neck the sign he’d left her side. The shape of the rider was familiar, like she’d seen it before, but she couldn’t quite place who it was. Not until their approach was closer, then it hit her like a sack of stones. 

Cullen felt his stomach flip when he realized it was Kyrie standing there, the fading light of the falling sun bathed her in an amber rich glow. She was more beautiful now than she’d ever appeared to him, making the swelling pit in his stomach lurch. How was he going to speak with her? What if he said the wrong thing and ruined every chance he could have had? Swallowing each fear through a dry mouth he pulled his steed beside the encampment. Jumping down he was glad for the sudden solidness beneath him, it helped ground him in the moment. Tying off the horse he unclipped his travel sack. “Hey Cullen.” Bull came bounding over a wide grin on his face. “See Red didn’t disappoint. We’re a half day from the Shrine. You up for kicking some ass?” 

“I believe I am up for the task,” Cullen nodded as he slung his pack over his shoulder. “How’s Kyrie doing?” He lowered his voice, not wanting anyone else to hear. Bull in turn chuckled, “fine. You should speak with her. Seems there’s a lot both of you need to say.” Wrapping an arm over his shoulder he dragged Cullen into the camp. “Got a good set up over here. Solas is on dinner duty tonight. Off catching something. Only got two tents, unless you brought another.”

“I did.” Cullen nodded. “Think I’ll set it up over there.” Pointing between the two already set up he went straight for it. Bull uttered something else, but Cullen’s mind was somewhere else. Pulling out his gear he focused on his work. Light was falling and easily enough he would be sleeping on the bare ground if he didn’t figure out his situation. He managed to just get it laid down before the sun disappeared over the treetops. Walking through the flaps he laid out his bedroll, placed his bag in the corner and set out his armor pieces. Settling down he pulled out a parchment and began writing. Finishing his letter, he poked out of the tent. Offering a whistle, he heard the fluttering of wings. Holding his arm out the bird gracefully landed, its head bobbing back and forth looking about. “Straight to your mistress. She’s expecting you.” Tying the message onto the hawk’s back he lifted his arm, allowing the bird to take flight on its own. 

“Sending word back,” Kyrie came around beside him, her words soft. “Do you… could we talk?”

“Perhaps a short walk?” Cullen nodded, “there is a small pond not far from here. It’s quiet and a good place to speak.” Holding his arm out he felt his heart flutter when she looped hers around it. Walking from the camp, he took her down the path towards the little clearing he’d mentioned. “Cullen!” Kyrie sighed as she spotted the weathered dock, an old worn lamp fitted to a post. Waving her hand, she brought it back to life. “This is so pretty.” 

“And quiet.” Cullen drew in a deep breath. It was just like the small lake near Honnleath. Hearing the water calmly lap at the edge of the old dock he felt instantly at peace. “You wished to speak?” Kyrie took a few tentative steps onto the wooden slats. They creaked and groaned under her weight, but it held. Walking out to the end she peaked over to see the water was a few feet away from touching the wood. Carefully she sat down and hung her feet over the edge. “Come sit with me.” 

Minding his step, he came to her side and settled in next to her. “Kyrie, I need to speak with you. I haven’t been completely honest with you. I…”

“I need to be honest too.” Kyrie nervously kicked her feet back and forth. “I’ve been trying to find the right way to say it and I guess there really isn’t one. I mean, it’s not like one of Varric’s novels where things just magically fall into place and… and…” Cullen took her hand in his, before leaning in. Tipping her chin up to meet her eyes, he smiled. “Are you saying what I think you are saying?”

“I like you Cullen. A lot. But, can you ever love a mage?” Her eyes danced, the light of the lantern flickering as the tears began to well up. “You aren’t just a mage, Kyrie. But this is almost too much to ask for. Even if I want to.” Licking his lips, he moved in, tentatively at first, until she met his pace. Smirking as he leaned further his breath hitched in his throat as her lips met his. 

Kyrie gasped against them, every inch of her skin ablaze, her lips on fire as she tried to burn every second into her memory. How he smelt, subtle hints of oakmoss and elderflower. Rich and creamy, with just a hint of oiled leather. A man, a man restored. She could feel the power coursing through him, his strength in all it’s raw power, alive and vibrant surging through him. But his kiss wasn’t power, wasn’t all raw strength. It mimicked the subtle floral scent he held. Sweet, delicate and explorative. Seeking affirmation and equality in its purity. 

His heart fluttered, the rhythmic beating jumping towards a roaring gallop. She returned his kiss, the same amount of zeal and passion. Wrapping his arm around her waist he was struggling to keep himself under control. His mind was racing, running to all the things he wanted to experience with her, do with her, share with her. This feeling overwhelming him was new. And Maker knew he didn’t want it to end. Tilting his head, he groaned when she followed, her tongue flicking out to taste his lips. “Kyrie.” He gasped as her hand came to caress his cheek. “We… we should stop.” Letting out a throaty groan he felt the fire bubble up inside as her teeth nipped at his bottom lip. “Cullen,” Kyrie moaned out as she moved to get closer to him. “We… we can’t do this. It’s not… not how I want things to be with you. This can’t be one night.” Grabbing her gently about the shoulder he rested his forehead against hers. “I need to prove I’m worthy of you, of this. That, I can be more than what I’ve believed myself to be. I want to take my time with you, with us. Do you… do you feel the same?” 

“Of course,” Kyrie was breathless as she squeezed her eyes shut, wanting desperately for the moment to freeze. For the time to hold still for just one more moment. Catching her breath, she opened her eyes to see the same look she felt across her own face echoed in Cullen’s. “We… we should get back to camp. It’s getting dark.” He sighed as he struggled to let her go. Standing slowly, he held his hand out to help her get to her feet. “There will be questions if we take too much longer.”

“Let them guess.” Kyrie smiled as she stood, wanting to be near him. “Cullen stay with me tonight. I miss you near me.” 

“I… I missed you too.” His shoulders relaxed and his smile beamed wide, he felt light as air as they walked arm and arm towards their encampment. Each bathed in the glow of their own excitement. Night began to set in, and their path was less than illuminated. Kyrie smiled, “allow me.” Holding her hand out, her palm tilted upwards she produced an orb of flame. “There.”

“Interesting and handy.” Cullen chuckled as they managed to find their way. Returning Kyrie chuckled softly. No one was at the usual nightly guard. Solas was laying upon the ground near the fire, his bedroll just outside the fire zone. Breaking hands with Cullen she went instantly to the fire. Piling on a heavy log teepee she swirled her hands, stoking the embers with a bit of magic. “That should last the night.” Yawning she looked over to the tents. 

Cullen was already heading for his, eager to lay down. He didn’t want to admit it, not out loud but he needed a moment. Just a chance to breathe away from her. Before his mind went to other places, other carnal urges that he didn’t want to give in to. Not so soon into this. He wanted to be more selfish, to enjoy her time, her presence and this new feeling pouring through him, electric and fiery. Taking in several calming breathes he began untying the laces to his pants. Toeing his boots off he neatly set them by his bedroll. Turning down the covers he caught the ruffle of the tent flaps. Glancing over his shoulder his heart began to race again, all his work to calm himself gone in the batting of her lashes. “I… I brought my bedroll. It… It’s getting cold outside.” 

“Come on,” Cullen chuckled shaking his head. “We need to get some sleep.” Pulling his shirt over his head he let his pants slip down. Settling into his bedroll he wormed himself into a comfortable position. “Good night Kyrie.”

“Good night Cullen.” She eased down beside him, snuggling in as she had back at Skyhold. Placing her hand upon his chest she was smiled at how much stronger he felt. Every bit of muscle had returned, taut and firm under her fingertips. How his chest rose and fell with each breath was music to her ears. Sighing heavily, she placed her head upon his shoulder. Closing her eyes, it was easy for her to drift off into a peaceful sleep. 

By morning the camp was a buzz, while Solas worked at cooking a hearty meal. Bull had a mile-wide grin on his lips as he caught Cullen and Kyrie come out of his tent. Her gave her heart a subtle shake and barely held back the giggle as Bull huffed and handed Solas a couple silver coins. Before the comradery reached its apex Cullen sharply stood, pointing to the tree line. Behind them the smoke rose over hills, the treetops barely moving with the hint of a morning breeze. “We need to move. Now.” Cullen was quick to begin attempting to pack before Bull’s booming voice forced him to stop. “Leave the camp. We’re far enough away it will be here for us. We are losing too much time.” 

“Agreed.” Kyrie turned racing into her tent. “Suit up then get onto your mount. If we have luck on our side, we may discover something before the flames consume it all.” It was too far away, too out of sight for her to even make an attempt to quell the growing fires. There was nothing more she could do except hurry with her armor and prepare. Prepare for whatever horror they were riding into. Checking her pouch, she noted how few lyrium potions she had. Getting to her stead she kicked him up and raced towards the billowing clouds. 

They rode in silence as fast as they dared push the horses, stopping only a small run away from the ancient Tevinter building. Outside its walls stood, flecking white paint and plant life the only hint of time. It seemed to Kyrie that Corypheus had taken some effort in cleaning up the outpost, repurposing it to his needs. She’d read the letter from Leliana, entailing what the strange fortress was once used for. A place where many came to pray to the old God Dumat. Shivering at the recall to the old name she remembered well reading the First Blight, overseen by the fallen God. How could anyone worship such a beast? Such an embodiment of evil? Keeping in time with her group she could finally see the flames, feel the heat against her sensitive skin. “Give me a moment.” She closed her eyes and pulled at them, forcing them down, to smother them in their own ashes. Drawing in a deep breath she wavered at the exertion. “We… We’re good to enter.” 

“Stay here and recover.” Cullen took her by the arm and helped her to the small stump near a crop of bushes. “Join us when you can.” Drawing his blade, he turned to Bull and nodded. Instantly the pair raced forward towards the door, kicking it open as they rushed inside. Through the dying smoke they caught the few remaining red templars by surprise. 

Kyrie sat dizzy for a few moments before she managed to reach for her side and pull out a bottle of lyrium. It was less a bottle and more a vial, something reserved for emergencies. All her life she’d hated the stuff, found its taste far too metallic and its effect overpowering. Like a rush that knew no bounds and honored no wish to cease. With shaking hands, she pulled free the tiny stopper and drew in a tight breath, as if holding it might quell what was to come. Knocking it all down in one quick motion she shivered against the foul taste. Rising to her feet she felt the heat rise up her neck, the flow of power surge through her. Using her staff to steady herself she paced through the broken doors, her mana flooding every sense. Hearing every nuisance, she closed her eyes, channeling the fire through her staff, letting it build and sing before she let it loose. Encircling her in heavy cords, flames bound by her will whipped out and lashed at the unwary foes. Searing screams of agony filled her ears as her eyes shot open, directing every vicious attack, helping to level the few remaining men. 

There wasn’t a moment to lose as the main door burst open and a ginormous creature of pure lyrium crystal shambled forth. Kyrie summoned more of the burning energy that was drumming along with the heavy beating of her heart. Spinning her spell, weaving it she lashed out with concentrated ropes of pure molten fire. Tying them about the creature, she began tugging in all directions. Solas joined in her chorus of magic, pulling and pushing at the beast. It growled and struggled against them, bits of the red spilling to the ground. Bull let out a loud yell as he charged forward, his ax held high over his head. Lunging at the beast he severed the massive scythe like appendage. Kyrie could feel the surge of lyrium begin to wane. Tugging at the fire cords she pulled with everything she had, taking the creature down to the ground. “Now!” She looked over to Cullen, extending her magic to wrap his blade in flames. “Drive it home!” 

Racing forward he flipped the hilt in his palm, letting it roll over the back of his hand before he gripped it tightly. Raising it over his head he slammed the blade into the heart of the hulk of pulsing red. Heat rolled over him, a burst of fire rushing about his face and body. Looking over to Kyrie he watched in awe as she directed the flames. Keeping them back from him, minimizing the heat and burn so that he barely felt it encompass him. Beneath him the massive of crystal began to liquify and turn to ash. As it flaked away into the flames, he noticed none of it was nearing him as well. “Kyrie…”

“I…” dropping to one knee she held it. Burning away the last of the lyrium and the monster upon the ground. Dropping everything the moment she felt it was safe she flopped onto her rear. “Boss!” Bull came rushing over, nearly tripping on Cullen who was closer. “You took a blue, didn’t you?” Bull scolded her as he leaned down to help her up. “I’m… I’m fine.” Weakly smiling she waved him off. “I just need a moment.”

“What do you mean?” Cullen paused, sheathing his blade. “What’s going on?”

“Lyrium makes her ill. She’s taken a bottle.” Bull huffed. “She’ll be out for a bit.” 

“Lyrium makes you sick!?” Cullen uttered it again, blinking at the strange and sudden revolution. “Will she be alright? Should we move her?” 

“I’m right here.” Kyrie gripped her staff tightly and rose. “I can manage. We should face minimal resistance inside.” Hobbling forward she locked her eyes to the doors. “No.” Cullen stood before her. “You are exhausted. You need to rest. We can continue inside while you rest out here. You’ve done enough. Thank you.” It was the last two words that stopped her dead in her tracks. No one, for as long as she’d struggled in her role as Inquisitor, as the Herald, had thanked her. Thanked her for the sacrifices and pain she’d endured. Not with the purity that rang from his lips. “Alright. But yell if you need me. I… I am not done yet.” Smiling weakly, she shuffled to the crate near by and sat down. “Only a moment.”

“Only.” Cullen smiled before he gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Come on let’s go.” 

Kyrie sat on the crate struggling to curb the sensation that was drowning her. Her head felt like it was floating, bobbing detached from her body on a storm wrecked sea. Each finger was growing and shrinking the skin at times feeling too tight and sometimes not firm enough. Even the box she sat upon wasn’t solid to her. Closing her eyes, she was willing the disjointed sensations to leave her. This happened every time she used lyrium, from as far back as she could remember. It always gave her an incredible rush of short-lived power, and then left her with these strange and unpleasant feelings. Dabbing at her nose she caught the bright scarlet that slicked the back of her hand, “shit.”

Cullen hung his head; he’d been too late. Maddox had passed and the last tangible link to Samson lost. He felt this one personally. It was by his hand that Maddox was tranquil, the crime; love. Slipping letters through Samson’s hand to an outsider. Thinking back on it now, he realized how absurd it was, how unfair and wrong it was. “I’m sorry Maddox.” Running his hand down his face the regret was quickly replaced with a sense of anger. Pure rage at Samson. Not only had he turned the Order into the mockery it was now, but he threw this poor creature to his destruction. This blood, this loss was on him and Cullen was going to do everything within his power to right things. 

Rising he uttered a quick word to the Maker before he turned to Bull. “He’s gone.”

“Yeah, shit.” Bull shook his head. “At least Kiki shut the flames off. We should turn the place, there’s got to be something they didn’t get to.” 

“K…Kiki?” Cullen paused in his step. “What… what did you call the Inquisitor?” There was sentiment of curiosity as well as a hint of concern. Bull caught on immediately and came to stand beside him. “It’s a nickname. Her father calls her. Nothing more Cullen. She’s all yours.” Patting his shoulder Bull nodded and went to look through the heaps of half burnt garbage. 

Kyrie tossed the section of torn fabric away. Taking the dagger from her waist band she used the polished metal to see her reflection. Under her nose was red, flecks of dried blood clinging to the top of her lip. Scrubbing at it she was beginning to feel more like herself, the flood of lyrium purging from her system slowly. Picking a few larger flakes off her nose she sighed, “stupid blue shit.” Stashing her blade, she clung to her staff and struggled to stand. Everything ached, a deep muscle burn as she rose. Taking a few weak steps, she growled. “This is garbage. Stupid lyrium, stupid templars, stupid red bullshit crystal bastards.” Grumbling she sighed as she reached the bottom of the steps leading into the Shrine. “Fuck.” Leaning against the crumbled section of broken wall she threw her head back, “why, why does it always have to be stairs?” Feeling her vision spin she let her neck roll her head forward. Clutching the staff, she knew it would be some time before she could do much of anything. She’d drained every last ounce of strength and it was by her sheer stubbornness that she was standing at all. 

“Commander, I have found something that might interest you.” Solas held up a soot blackened set of tools on a worn ring. “Those… Those are tranquil tools. I’ve seen them before.” Taking hold of the ring he looked them over. “These, are unique to each tranquil, their craft and…” smirking wide he chuckled. “Perfect. Thank you Solas, you may have just found our key to defeating Samson.”

“Commander?”

“Tranquil tools are unique to each tranquil. They make them themselves and while I never paid much attention to the how, I know the why. Each job requires exact tools. If Maddox was the one repairing and tending to Samson’s red lyrium laced armor, these tools were their key. Dagna might be able to use them to destroy it. He is undone.” Taking a satchel from Bull he carefully wrapped them “We need to return to Skyhold as quickly as we can.”

“That I agree with.” Bull didn’t stick around; he began rapidly walking towards the exit. As his eyes adjusted to the afternoon sun, he caught Kyrie standing at the foot of the steps. “Kiki, what are you doing?” Shaking his head, he trotted down the steps. “You won’t be able to climb these and believe me when I say you really don’t want to.” 

“Let’s get back to camp. Tell me everything.” Kyrie weakly held her hand out wrapping her arm around Bull’s.


	23. Two Flames

Bull lifted her up, half slinging her over his shoulder. Instantly she began complaining, “Cullen!” But he was too busy laughing to be of much help. Kyrie’s tired face scrunched into a weak grimace of malcontent only had one effect on him; humor. There was something about the pout on her lip, the puppy dog glaze of her eyes that made him chuckle. “I’m sorry, I can’t take you seriously like that.” Chuckling again he swiftly saddled his horse. Before he could kick off to return to the camp, Bull plopped her down across his lap. “All yours Commander.” Smiling wide, Cullen thought for sure the Qunari winked at him, even though it was hard to be certain, with only one eye. She was face down across his lap in an awkward slump. There was no ‘safe’ location for him to adjust her or rest his forearms. Biting his lip, he could hear the others laughing loudly as they rode back to camp, Bull holding the reigns to Kyrie’s horse. “I… uh…”

“Just… just ride.” Kyrie sighed too weak to struggle. “Its not far.” Resigned to her fate of a rough ride back to the came she let her weight settle over his lap. Closing her eyes, she let out a yelp when she felt his hand wrap over her thigh. “Cullen!” 

“I will not have you bouncing about as we return to camp.” His other arm came across her collarbone. “Roll towards me.” 

“Oh… Alright.” Using up the last bit of her strength she threw herself into him. Eyes squeezed shut she didn’t want to see what was coming. If he didn’t catch her it would be quite the tumble and the last thing she wanted to witness. But he did catch her, pulling her in close he chuckled as she easily came to rest against him. “You doubted me. I’ll remember that.” Cradling her against himself he kicked up his horse into a gently cantor. It was incredible to feel her so weak, so frail in his arms as they rode the short distance to the camp. Her eyes barely open as she struggled to stay alert. “Rest.”

“They… I am needed.” She gritted it out, against everything. Her lips were thick, swollen from the lyrium and her eyes were a bit puffy. “It wasn’t a big vial, I’ll… I’ll be fine.” It was clear she was struggling just to keep lucid. “You are not well.”

“You went into a lyrium infested oven.” She snapped back before letting out a huff. “That was unkind.”

“Yet true.” Cullen chuckled. “But it makes no difference. I may have a few bumps and bruises, maybe a cut or two but you need a healer.” Arriving at camp Bull was already rushing over. “Hand her to me. Solas will take a look.” 

“Quickly, she is not well.” Cullen frowned as he carefully slipped her into Bull’s arms. Jumping down from his horse he followed him. Solas quickly looked her over, passing his hand over her face and chest. “She does not react to lyrium well. I can help easy it but time is the only thing that can purge the reaction from her body.” Solas held his hands out, both glowing an intense blue before he passed them back over her. “She needs to rest. Then we should return to Skyhold as soon as possible.” 

“Agreed.” Cullen nodded. “I’ll keep watch over her.” 

Within a couple days they were back on the road to Skyhold, Kyrie pouting at Cullen had confiscated her vials. “No, you can’t have them.” He huffed. “You cannot tolerate them and in battle it could be nearly as dangerous as not having anything.”

“Fine.” Grunting Kyrie kicked her horse up, rushing past Cullen and towards the bridge leading into Skyhold. She was in no mood to be treated with the kid gloves Cullen thought she needed. There were too many threats, too many unforeseen instances. Dropping her horse off at the stable she didn’t bother wasting any time speaking to anyone or waiting for any of her companions. Storming directly to Josephine’s office she put her Inquisitor face back on and tipped her head. “I’m ready to deal with Blackwall, and any other issues we have.”

“Wonderful. I’ll have him brought up.” Josephine nearly bounded out of her chair. 

Cullen looked over to the group as the pulled in, none of them uttering a word. “I’ll speak with her.” 

“To be fair Commander, I think you’ve said enough for now.” Bull shook his head as he hopped easily off his mount. “She has a lot of faith in you, a lot of respect and right now she’s feeling burned.”

“She’s being reckless. If she were to take more than the small vial she had, and there were no aid around…” the words died in Cullen’s throat, the lump threatening to choke him, the thought too much to see through. “I… There has to be a better way.”

“There isn’t Commander.” Solas leaned upon his staff. “Her body hyper accelerates the lyrium, forcing everything into a high spin. She manages this by focusing that energy into a controlled attack. It helps funnel away most of the negative effects but there are some downsides. It leaves her spent, and she is more than aware of this and plans for it. Her selection for her parties always bears in mind the possibility of this occurring.” Dipping his head Solas quietly excused himself, leaving Bull with Cullen. “I…”

“Let her cool. You’re toying with fire Cullen. Last thing you want is to go up against it, holding an arm full of straw.” Bull patted him on the back before he made a straight line towards the tavern. 

“You’re serious?” Thom’s eyes were wide as he stared straight at Kyrie. “Absolutely. Grey Warden Gordon Blackwall saw to protect you from the killing blow. To make you a Grey Warden and give you a chance at redemption. I see to honor his wishes. Once we have defeated Corypheus and his minions, you will be sent to the Grey Wardens to preform their rites. Unless they see fit to send someone sooner. But I have a feeling they won’t.” Kyrie waved her hand, signalling for a man to remove the restrains from Thom’s hands and feet. “Thom Rainier, welcome to the Inquisition.”

“Inquisitor.” His eyes cast to the floor, the mumbles and gasps audible. “And what of…”

“That is all. Thom.” Gritting her jaw, she shook her head. “You may leave.” Turning to Josephine she nodded, “is that all for today?”

“Yes Inquisitor. But I do have a bit of news from Orlais. In regard to the remains of the Duchess.”

“Remains? Please don’t tell me I am to preside over a corpse. Or what’s left of it.”

“Precious little, thankfully mostly ash.” Josephine let out a long sigh. “It seems the Empire is in a bind. The Duchess owned land and other holdings. It would appear personally vindictive for the Empress to delegate of the property and she has requested our aid. The urn, won’t arrive for a few days but...”

“Fine. It gives me a bit of time to read up on property laws and history.” Waving her hand Kyrie rose. “It is late in the day, I wish to turn in. If there are any more letters have them brought up in the morning. Unless they are urgent.” Heading straight for her quarters she was still feeling a bit off from the lyrium, its effects more intense than she’d anticipated. Solas had done his best in bleeding it away but her hands were still shaking. Growling as she stomped up her steps she wanted to scream, to throw something, to let it out. She’d hidden it, from everyone. Lyrium was far more dangerous to her than she’d shown. Every inch of her ached, two days since she’d taken it and her bones throbbed. Several times along the road back she had to hide the slow trickle of blood from her nose. 

Flinging the door to her storage room open she pulled at the tub with her magic, only to feel the cords of her muscles hurt. Letting out a frustrated huff she physically grabbed for the solid ring with her hands. It was far too heavy to move. Slamming the storage room door, she flopped onto her bed, tears beginning to slip from her eyes. 

Cullen paced back and forth in his tower. It was a bit much, all too much to sit on his hands. “Maker take me,” swiping a mitt full of letters he half flew through the door towards the rotunda. Stopping for nothing he made a bee line for her quarters. He’d heard it all; her judgement, how she was with Josephine and more importantly Thom’s reaction. That was something he’d deal with later, if it came to it. Right now, he had something he needed to say. 

“Commander.” A scout walked directly into his path, a letter in hand. “We have intel on Corypheus’s movements. We believe we’ve located him and his next move.” Snatching the paper Cullen quickly read it over. Gritting his teeth, he nodded, “inform Sister Leliana at once.” 

Drying her tears, she rose and went to the fire barely able to cast the simple bit of mana to light it. Taking the kettle, she had to turn to her basin to pour water in before setting it over the flames. Rubbing at her arms she was still angry. But her reasoning was beginning to kick in. Cullen was right, she was playing a dangerous game. At some point lyrium might just kill her. Settling into the chair by the fire she let her head fall into her hands, allowing the flood of emotion to consume her again. 

Cullen could hear her sobs as he opened the door. Not wanting to startle her he carefully shut the door, making as little sound as possible. Tip toeing up the steps he caught her sobs beginning to ebb. Reaching the top, he saw her in the lone chair by the fire. Mopping at her eyes with her sleeve she sniffled and curled tighter into herself before letting out a weak whimper followed by a sharp curse. Clearing his throat softly he tried to school his reaction as she sat up straight and tried to wipe at her face. “Inquisitor. Kyrie,” Cullen started unsure of how to go about the things bouncing about in his brain. “I wanted to apologize. I did not intend to come across as harshly as I did. I spoke out of… deep concern. For… you.” His mouth was running dry, the words he’d bounced about in his mind all seemed to suddenly take flight, leaving him grasping at their shadows and fumbling to touch a single one. He was clenching his fist so tight the tips of his fingers were going numb. “And… I do not wish ill to fall upon you. Not if it can be prevented.”

“Cullen,” Kyrie rose slowly before bracing herself upon the chair, the tremor returning. “I was wrong.” Her head was spinning again, the room shrinking and stretching, her skin attached to the walls as they moved. “I… am not well.” Pressing her hand to her forehead she was barely holding herself together. “It is worse than I remember it being.” Feeling the slow trickle begin in her nose she cursed again under her breath. “I… I need a healer.” 

Had he not moved when she waffled, he would not have caught her in time as her frame crumpled, destined to splay across the stone floor. Cradling her in his arms he could see how shallow her breathing had become. Panicked he rose and rushed her to her bed. Torn between wanting to stay by her side and getting help he rushed to the bell pull. Ringing it as fast as he could in rapid succession, hoping it might bring more people or speed to their arrival. Flinging the cord to the side he rushed back to her side. “Kyrie, come on, stay with me.”

“I… I’m alright.” Reaching for his hand she grunted, pain flowing through her. “I never did hear what you wanted to say. Please, tell me.”

“First we need to get a healer. I can tell you once you are well enough to bare it.” Cullen run his thumb over the back of her hand. Brushing her hair back from her face he let out a weak chuckle, “you’re beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“No. But I prefer it coming from you.”

“Commander!” Dorian came rushing up the steps. “The staff were screaming that the Inquisitor’s bell was ringing out and, Maker!” Half tripping over his feet he scrambled to get to her side. Waving his hand over her he flashed a look at Cullen. “I am not the best healer and Solas is still recovering. An elfroot potion might counteract most of the lyrium effect but I’ve never known someone to be ill like this.” His hands flared, violet smoke encircling them as he tried his best. “I can take some of it away, ease her suffering but…”

“Pull what you can.” She mumbled. “Elfroot potions, a tea brewed from embrium pollen and…” let out a pained squawk her body stiffened for a moment. “I started the kettle. The tea is in my desk, top drawer.”

“Cullen could you…”

“On it.” Rushing over he tore the drawer open, seeing a small satchel his hands shook as he pulled the tie free. Out tumbled a few smaller prepared cheesecloths wrapped bundles. Taking one he dropped it into the tea pot on the end of the desk. Barely finished that he only just remembered to use the rolled towel to grab the kettle. “I have to get Solas, I’ve done all I can. He will have a better understanding of this.” Dorian waved at Cullen. “Do as she askes and I will return as quickly as I can.” 

Placing the kettle back over the hearth he knew it would need some time to steep. Returning to her side as Dorian’s footsteps faded down the stairs, he took her hand. “Kyrie, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You were right.” Kyrie let out a long breath of air. “Lyrium has always made me ill, but never like this.”

“Could it be the proximity of the red lyrium? I have heard other mages say it makes them feel strange when they are near it.” Cullen ran his thumb over her knuckles. “I trust that you know what you are doing. I do not believe you would be foolish and harm yourself.” 

“More than likely,” Solas came over the top step, barely making a sound. “You have a sensitivity to lyrium, being surrounded by it’s pulsing effects added to your over all illness.” Arriving at her bedside his hands began to radiate a soft green glow. “I cannot remove all of the ill effects, but I can speed along your healing. You shall be up on your feet within a day.” Looking over to Cullen, Solas nodded. “She needs rest, food and drink. Nothing more need be done.”

“I will see to it. Thank you Solas.” Cullen nodded before turning to collect some water for her. “Can you send Leliana and Josephine up on your way down? We have news on Corypheus.”

“I can. I also have something to discuss with you later, once you have rested Inquisitor.” Bowing slightly, he finished and left. Cullen tended to her side, bringing her what he thought she’d need. “It’s not so easy when you’re on the other side is it?” She smiled as she wormed her way into a leaned sit. “I honestly don’t know how you remained so calm. Seeing you like this is… unnerving.” Cullen let out a sigh, trying his best to school his face against the cloud forming over him. “I wish I could take this from you.” He uttered it so softly, just low enough that she barely caught it. As he sunk into the seat next to her, she reached out and took his hand. “As did I.” 

“Commander, Inquisitor. Solas informed us of your intentions to meet here and her condition. We have word on Corypheus.” Leliana came into the room, Josephine tightly behind her with a small tray in her hands. “We an discuss this slowly.”

“Please. It is maddening enough to be bound up in bed. I wish to aid as much as I am capable of.” Feeling better she focused on the details. They’d received word of some movement from known agents of Corypheus. Heading towards the Arbor Wilds, with no sign of Corypheus himself. Morrigan had informed them of a possible relic hidden deep within. Something that might help bridge Corypheus from their realm into the Fade physical. But as it stood it was only rumors, they needed more time and more information before they could request the march of armies. Leliana went on to explain that Dagna may have managed to discover a method to destroy Samson’s armor and she’d need to see her when she could spare a moment. 

There were only two outstanding issues. One; the Qunari and their offer of alliance. Then she would need to return in time to judge the Duchess’s ashes before whatever was going on. Leliana said they had a couple weeks at the most before any real word could be made on the travel of his people. They were moving too sporadically to convince their allies of anything. “Alright. Solas said I should be well by morning. I shall take one day here then make plans to meet the Qunari contact. Bull indicated he’d meet us in a location off the Storm coast. We will return as quickly as we can.”

“You should rest.” Josephine smiled sweetly as she took some of the empty plates and items back to her desk. “Tomorrow we can discuss small matters. When you are ready.”

“Thank you.” Kyrie yawned. “Tomorrow.”

“Good night Inquisitor.” Josephine and Leliana both made their way to the stairs. “We’ll speak later, Commander.” 

“Right, yes, I…”

“Good night Cullen.” Leliana’s sweet voice rang out as they disappeared down the steps.


	24. Once More

Kyrie begged him to stay and he was too concerned to leave. It was becoming custom now and many within Skyhold didn’t even bother to ask questions; they knew the answer. Maybe before Kyrie and Cullen themselves had figured it out. Her companions took it upon themselves to send things to her quarters, most when she wasn’t in them. Little gifts. Some comical, others more purposeful. The one that got the most visceral reaction from Kyrie was the long-shaped box with the words ‘enchanted’ across the top from Iron Bull.

She had avoided speaking with Bull further till they left, seeking to fill the time during their long journey. There was more than enough to speak on and despite the interesting gift she had her mind set on other things. More important things regarding their potential alliance with the Qunari. And the sudden appearance of the Chargers. They’d travelled together before, always a round of merriment and too much ale. Something she needed now more than ever. Leaving Cullen that morning had been harder than she thought. Harder than she’d prepared for, and it had taken everything inside of her to withhold the tears as they rode out. 

Bull was tender as they went, quietly speaking to her before switching to his usual boisterous energy. Making every lude and crude comment he could to get her mind off the moment. When they finally made their second camp along the way Bull gave her a heads up. It was subtle, but she knew well enough he wished to speak. Settling into his lap, she snuggled in. “Speak to me, you’ve had this little rain cloud hanging over your head since we left Skyhold. You’ve done a pretty good job of hiding it. I don’t want you taking two days of Krem beating you with a stick again.” Pouting she chuckled when he grinned. “I’m beginning to question if you enjoyed it though.”

“I explained, it’s a mental trick.”

“Nothing mental about being hit with a stick. Repeatedly. But we’re getting off topic. Speak to me.”

“Ya, I want to.” Bull sighed curling about her. “This mission isn’t one I like. Too many angles, not enough predictability. If shit goes south, things are really going to get ugly; fast.”

“You’ve explained the basics, clearly there’s more to it.” Kyrie paused to focus on his reaction, catching the brief flicker of doubt. “We’re all going home after this Bull. I promise you.”

“I trust you Boss. I just, I’m used to them being over there and now, they’re here. Ya know?” 

“I’ve read about the Qun and how it more or less works. In practice it sounds ideal, but there are holes.” Shaking her head, she knew well enough what would become of herself. “No offense, but I am rather fond of the Iron Bull. Not another Hissad.”

“Been doing your research.” Bull slightly chuckled as his shoulders relaxed, he glanced over to the tents the Chargers were currently resting in. “I’m worried about my men. This might be a bit more than they are ready for.”

“They have one of the best leaders directing them. I have faith in you.” Kyrie patted his hand. “But, this is a what if situation and I find thinking about it too much lends to sleepless nights. We’re nearly at the coast. Let’s take it how it comes and put a bit of faith in me.” Going to rise she was surprised when Bull squeezed her tight. “And I will always have your back Bull.”

“Thanks Boss. Get some sleep, I’ll be along soon enough.” Bull tenderly swatted her rear, not his usual forceful bat. Nodding Kyrie smiled, “not too late Chief.” Winking she strolled over to her tent. It was something to take her mind off Cullen. All she wanted to do was to return to him, to lay with him, to just hear his voice. Varric had said it the first day, “you look home sick Embers. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry Varric.” But it was those two words that bounced around her head tonight. ‘Home sick,’ could someone be home sick about another person? Was that a thing? Going about her nightly routine she curled up in her bedroll. “Home,” she mumbled it before pushing the thought away, needing and willing sleep to come. 

Cullen flopped over again, for the fourth time that night. Laying flat on his back he stared up at the night sky, mapping each star he could clearly see. It helped calm his mind but did nothing to change the emptiness he felt, the loneliness of his bed. “Shit.” He let out a long sigh as he rose and tugged a shirt over his head. Sliding down his ladder he decided it would be best to go for a walk, to help clear his head and perhaps ease him into a good sleep upon his return. 

Only just remembering to pull his mantle over his shoulder he walked out into the night. Braziers lit the line along the palisades, and he was more than content to walk it. Coming about the corner he settled in a spot shielded from the crisp mountain air. Resting his forearms on the ledge, he leaned against it, allowing his mind to wander over the valley. Skimming over the mountain peaks, floating and descending to where she could be. Even here, now, his mind drifted to her. She was more than capable of tending to herself, but the scare with lyrium had made him leery. Jumping at the sound of wings fluttering he let out a long sigh as the wide-eyed bird seemed to find his reaction amusing. Taking the letter off the creature he stuffed it into his pocket, there was no use in reading it out in the dark and strain his eyes. Drawing in one more deep breath he calmly strolled back to his office. Once inside he lit a couple candles and sat at his desk. Laying the scroll flat he read it over. 

“Tal-va-fucking-shoth.” Bull growled as he sat by the stump. “I guess I’m just glad you didn’t set Gatt aflame.”

“I thought about it. I really really thought about it.” Kyrie snuggled up against Bull, looping her arm around his. “But you’re not that word. You are you. The Iron Fucking Bull!” She bumped into him making his chuckle. “My Bull.”

“I think Dorian might have words.” 

“Vishante Kaffas.” Dorian rolled his eyes, the bloom of scarlet tickling his cheeks. “I’m going to bed. The sooner we get out of this cursed seaside the better.”

“You wanted to come Kadan,” Bull snickered as Dorian slipped into the tent. “Bull huh.”

“Yeah. I think it sounds way better than Hissrad. Iron Bull means strength, with stubborn purpose. A will unbending and true. No liar here.” Resting her head against his arm she let out a long yawn. “Krem will be alright in a day or two. Between Stitches and my skills, there won’t be a scar.”

“Thanks boss,” Bull drew in a long breath. “You should rest. Going to be a quick return, lots happening.” Patting her thigh, he gave it a light squeeze, even for his size and usual antics it was like a small pinch. Kyrie placed a kiss against his bicep. “Don’t stay up too late.” 

“I hate to ask this of you,” Cullen rubbed at the base of his neck, “in fact, I don’t know how to ask.” Prompting Edward to let out a stifled chuckle. “If you’re looking for my approval you already have it. There have I saved you an embarrassment?”

“How did you…”

“How could I not? Maker knows I’ve seen my fair share of puppy eyes and longing looks. Too many times I was forced to get in the way. Not this time.” Turning Edward reached for two wooden practice swords. “But you will forgive me for my odd habits.” Tossing one towards Cullen he grinned wide. “I want to see what you’ve got. How well you’re healed.” 

“It’s been a long time since we had a good spar.” Cullen chuckled before giving his head a shake. “But don’t you…”

“Entertain me.” Edward took a step back the wooden sword firm in his hand, “consider it a chance to see what I can do.” Grinning he strolled a short distance back before settling into a comfortable stance. “Come on, let’s see if I still have it.”

Kyrie shook her head as she dabbed gingerly at the long gash over Bull’s bicep. “Why, I don’t understand? Couldn’t they just let you go? This is madness.”

“It’s just a scratch Kiki.” Bull hissed as she lightly packed the wound with some elfroot paste. “I’m fine.”

“It could have been poisoned!”

“Oh, it definitely was poisoned. I’d be a drooling mess if I hadn’t been dosing myself with the antidote since we left the Storm Coast. Your face is going to stick like that you know,” he tenderly took her chin between his massive fingers. “Kyrie, I’m going to be just fine. I’ve hurt myself worse in bed.”

“That’s… That’s not the point.” Her eyes welled up as she pouted, barely able to with Bull’s fingers upon her chin. “It’s not fair. You’re… you are you. Not whatever garbage they sputtered before you… before you…”

“Tossed them off the edge? Yeah.” Bull sighed and let his hand drop, gritting his teeth as a sharp stabbing round of pain coursed through his arm. “Tal-Vashoth. Tal- Va- Fucking- Shoth.”

Kyrie was on her feet in a flash, her hands instantly upon Bull’s cheeks. “Hey, none of that.” Shaking her head, she huffed, “you are the Iron Bull, chief of the Chargers and my best friend. You don’t need some fancy code word, or backwards thing. You are the Iron Bull. And that, is more than enough.” Straightening up she stopped to place a tender kiss to his forehead. “And no matter what, you are loved.”

“Aw, boss you’re going to make me cry.” Bull wrapped her up in one arm. “But we need to get back. Couple hours ride and we’ll be there. I think Cullen will have found Corypheus by now. Expect to be busy.” 

“Never a dull moment, right.” Patting his shoulder, she caught the sight of the rest of the crew coming over the hill. Krem had been lagging behind with a few other Chargers, their injuries minor. Even so, Kyrie had insisted upon scouting ahead and keep them safe the entire trip home. It had been her decision, but she’d caught the look in Bull’s eye. The relief that seemed to cover him like a cloak. And now she knew why. She’s had the feeling for a couple days now, that someway, somehow, someone was following them. When they came over the hill and two scouts started towards them, she had thought nothing of it. But once she’d cleared their line of sight, the one closest to her reached for a blade and uttered something in Qunlat. Within a breath he’d launched the knife through the air, imbedding it directly into Bull’s arm. Yet he barely flinched. Instead he ran straight in, not even bothering to draw his weapon. Punching the one in the face he grabbed the original offender and hurled him over the cliff side. Again, he’d uttered something of offense in the foreign tongue before plummeting to his death. This had given Kyrie time to recover. In a flash she cast out, preventing the other man from getting up and aid in his companion’s cause. She’d only just managed to think of something, and it was a flaming ball of fire. As it burst across the man’s chest, he let out a scream before the flames curled around him and he stumbled back to tumble over the side with his partner.

Instantly she flew to Bull’s side and began tending to him, terrified something vital had been struck. With the event over, she felt now, as they trotted over the bridge, that she could breathe. Pacing into the stables with her mare she could hear the loud cheering coming from the sparring ring. Following the group of men and women encircling the area she caught sight of the two men in the center. Edward was grinning wide as he parried another thrusting attack. 

There was Cullen an echoed grin upon his lips. Both men wearing training jerkins, clearly marked with sweats. Each advancing blow was met with equal resolve and energy, a chuckle from both men as they leapt back from their foray. “Excellent form,” Edward gave a grand bow before he settled back into a pounce. “But did they ever instruct you on the flying archdemon technique?”

“You’re just making names up now Edward,” Cullen let out a belly laugh, the warm mirth a welcome sign from the usually surly faced Commander. “Soon you’ll be talking about a duelist in a tavern.”

“Oh, so you have heard of the pirate Queen Isabela.” Edward countered the next blow, spinning to push off Cullen’s back and ready for the next assault. In return Cullen halted his advances, he’d spent the better part of Maker knew how long attacking. Each movement at a regular speed with half strength, and each one was countered. Curious he chuckled, “you do a good job with words, but do you know how to strike anymore?” 

“Ah, throwing the old man insults now? And I thought that you didn’t know how to taunt an opponent.” Grinning wide Edward began his retort. Again, in matching Cullen’s earlier effort, Edward struck out with the same strength and speed as Cullen had. It wasn’t anything the other hadn’t seen, both men well trained and honed templars to the core.

It was Cullen who caught sight of her from the corner of his eye. Upon her face was a worried expression as she silently watched, her breath seemingly caught in her throat. Returning his focus to the light sparring he noticed it. Edward’s breathing was heavy, his brow damp with sweat, and his skin a light sallow. He was not as well as he’d feigned. Training his full attention on Edward he was quick to pinpoint the area of his trouble. “Edward.” Cullen tangled his blade with Edwards and leaned in. “You are not healed. We need to stop.” 

“Just a bit longer. I can’t disappoint her.” Edward’s eyes betrayed his pain. “Edward, I can’t do that. Please, old friend. A draw?” Pushing Cullen back Edward nodded. Clearing his voice, he forced a smile to his lips, “thank you Commander. Excellent work. I look forward to training more later. It seems our Inquisitor has returned.” 

“As it seems,” Cullen turned, running his forearm over his forehead he flashed her a wide smile. “Welcome back Inquisitor. Allow me to clean up and I shall meet you in the war room.” Tipping his head, he was quick to march off towards his tower.

Kyrie looked over to Edward, who was quick to retrieve a skin of water. “You aren’t…”

“I’m just fine Kiki.” Edward downed several hurried gulps before letting out a long sigh. “Just a bit out of shape. Nothing some regular of training can’t fix. I’ll be ready to stand by you soon enough.” Placing his hand on her shoulder he gave it a gentle squeeze. “But I’m sure you have work to tend to. Come to the tavern after, I’ll buy you a drink and you can tell me all about it.” Leaning in he gave her forehead a quick peck before turning back to return his practice gear.

Cullen was barely free of his sweat dampened shirt when the messenger came in. “Ser, priority message from Sister Leliana. She requests your immediate presence in the war room.” 

“Alright.” Tossing the shirt aside he reached for a new one, quickly tugging it over his head. Without a second thought he rushed out the door, barely swiping his mantle before pacing across the bridge towards the rotunda. His mind was racing trying to figure out why Leliana sent a messenger. When he arrived in the war room he knew, “we know, don’t we?”

“Yes.” Leliana smiled turning toward Josephine, “we’ve begun sending letters. Orlais will take the longest to send aid. King Alistair will be the quickest to respond, I have little doubt. But there is the need to…”

“Edward Thames will stay behind and continue to work with our newest recruits. I have faith in his abilities, and he’s worked with the recruits before. They are used to his instruction and is as well trained as I am.” Cullen stood firm as he took his place at the table, speaking calmly as he normally did. He needed Leliana and Josephine to agree and to do so before Kyrie arrived. “I believe it would be too costly time wise to recall Rylen from the Western Approach.”

“You make a valid point. Agreed.” Leliana was busy with her head down, moving metal markers upon the table. “I think siege weaponry will be useless for this endeavor. Commander, recommendations.”

“A ballista or two, would cover camp less the dragon returns to the field but you are correct. Anything else would be too cumbersome. Slowing our march and with the forest being dense it would prove useless. I have one request.” Leaning onto the sword at his side he reached for one of Leliana’s markers. “We have several of your fastest men and Scout Harding set up a solid launching ground. She’s proven immensely resourceful and skilled.”

“Agreed. Two ballistae as well makes sound sense. Josephine?” 

“There are at least three Comte I can request to aid in that sense. Though I am certain the Empress will bring her own as well. We have only one currently in the forge. It was in bad shape last I heard. I shall send the proper letters to have them retrieved.” Josephine had her head down scribbling away. Cullen caught the slight movement of the door before Kyrie came through. He wasn’t sure Kyrie caught the issue with Edward and it wasn’t his place to tell her. That was his choice and he would honour whatever Edward had in mind. Picking up the letter he cleared his throat. “Inquisitor. We have word and have begun preparations. Corypheus and his people are making way to the Arbor Wilds.”


	25. Wild Fire

Kyrie was overwhelmed by all of it. Morrigan showed her the eluvian, the goal of Corypheus. His tool to claim his Godhood and instantly Kyrie knew what they needed to do. They needed more than anything else in the world, to reach it first. Her focus was dead set on it as they travelled, sleeping just enough before rising to continue the march. Between her companions and the advisers, it was impossible to get a moment for herself. Which she was more than thankful for. 

By the time they reached the basin, she was exhausted. Most of the troops had gone on ahead, including Cullen. Insistent that he needed to be with the men, as any proper General should be. Before parting he stole a moment with her, one she played over in her mind. It was a normal morning, up early to watch the sun crest over the Frostback Mountains. Bathing in the iridescent glow of the waking morning light. Pale pinks turning into deep violets before the soft glowing orange orb rose, it’s light blanketing the area in a rich warmth. It was those precious few moments, when the night sky faded, the stars gave way and the two merged into one before the day swallowed the night. 

With her cloak wrapped tightly around herself she was always surprised when she walked through the main doors. Skyhold seemed to hold a warmth, far warmer than a mountain keep should have been. Not that she was complaining, she just hadn’t really figure out the magic. Solas had said the place was old, far older than written record. So, the magic could be lost to time, and that upset her. Taking long strides, she was eager to get to the palisades. One of the few places where the cool winter air swirled and fought back the magic, winning and chilling several corners of the old keep. But there was a lightness in her step, a skip in her heart as she remembered the other purpose to this early morning rising. Cullen had sent word, late that night that he could not come to her chambers. But that he wished to meet her when the sun barely crested up over the ridges, at the section of wall that faced the tallest peak. 

So, she hurried. His letter was informal, something he wasn’t known for, and thus making her all the more excited. Reaching the last step, she was disappointed to not see him about. Pacing over to the wall she leaned over, her eyes glued to the slowly changing colours of the horizon. In her mind she was busy, it was a view unlike anything she could have imagined. Short of a painting, it was perfection. Her mother would have loved such a view. “I hope you can you see this.” She mumbled it under her breath as she let her chin rest in her hand, elbow propped upon the stone. “It goes by too quickly.” 

“It truly does,” his voice was soft, snapping her from her thoughts. “Oh, Cullen.” She didn’t move as he approached, waiting for him to settle in beside her. When his hand crested over her hips, she felt the heat tickle her cheeks. “You’re in a good mood this morning.”

“I wish it could last,” there was a sorrow in his voice before he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Kyrie, we are to leave today. To face Corypheus and… I want you to have something.” Standing tall he dug into his pocket, pulling out something silverish. “When I left for templar training my brother gave me this. It’s foolish I know, probably the only thing he had in his pocket at the time. But he said it was for luck. I… I have survived where many others fell. Maybe it is due to this, or maybe the Maker takes pity in me. Either way,” holding it out to her, he gave her a lop-sided smile. “I want you to take it. For luck.”

“What about you?” Kyrie’s brown knit together in concern as she placed her hand over his, the coin still warm in his palm. “I can manage. I worry more for you. Please, humor a foolish man.”

“Alright,” Kyrie nodded taking it. Sitting now, as the sun began to come up through the dense canopy of trees, she ran her fingers over the worn details of the coin. Andraste’s face was embossed into the metal, the once sharp ridges smoothed and nearly flat in some areas. Clearly Cullen had worried upon it during his life. She’d remembered him telling her once he left to train at thirteen. Now a man of nearing thirty-two she couldn’t help but feel her heart tug. This all needed to end. There had been enough death, enough horror and blood in his life, in all these peoples lives. Now, here, she could stop it.

But then what? After all she was an apostate outside of the Inquisition. Retire Inquisitor or not, what did it all mean? All she knew, at that moment was what she wanted; him. However, this played out, however their lives would be, she didn’t care as long as they were together. Tucking the coin into her bra band she drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling through her nose. 

“Inquisitor.” Morrigan stepped out of the shadows, her staff tight in her hand. “We have a break in the lines. The sooner we begin our advance the quicker we can route Corypheus’s forces. He will not sit idly by when he is so close to his goal.”

“Of course. Are the others ready?” Rising she dusted her hands off. There was too much at risk now to think more on the future. Following Morrigan through the camp she caught the lines of wounded. She’d read the reports, strange elves attacking both sides. Solas claimed to know nothing of them, but she knew his knowledge would be invaluable. Selecting her party carefully she met with Leliana at the edge of the camp, her bow in her hands. “We’re making our way to the temple. Maker’s speed Leliana.” 

“Maker watch over you all.” Bowing her head Leliana rose and returned to her post, speaking with an Orlesian knight in full plate. 

It was a blur of motion as they fought through the woods, encountering possessed Grey Wardens, Venatori, red templars and the mysterious elves. But when they caught sight of Solas they seemed to back off. Kyrie was almost sure of it. As they neared the remains of the ancient elven temple, Kyrie caught sight of him. Only for a brief moment, the familiar fur of his mantle about his shoulders. He was toe to toe with another red templar as they jostled back and forth. Kyrie was too far away to be of any aid, but her heart was calmed when she witnessed how easily Cullen beat the man back, eventually running him through. In the moments after he quickly rallied his men, his booming voice clear to her, “hold this position. The Inquisitor and her people must enter the temple. No one must get past us.” 

“Please, Maker.” Muttering it under her breath she couldn’t bare to make eye contact with him. Putting her head down she ran, her team pushing through. Leaving him behind. 

Cullen watched for a moment before he returned to guarding. Nothing was getting through him. No matter how tired he was, no matter how loudly his muscles screamed. Checking in with the remaining men around him he reached into his mantle and withdrew a skin of water. “Drink and ready. They will be upon us soon enough. If you have rations make use of them.” Taking a drink himself, he returned the skin to his side. His hands were slick, blood and water in equal mixture. They were fighting in ankle deep pools and he was more than aware of how dangerous it was to ingest any of the red lyrium. Thankful that the urges had left him, he knew well enough how quickly it could return. It only took a few drops. Hearing the pounding of boots, he gripped his blade and lowed his shield. “Ready men!” 

Kyrie sat, slumped against the magically sealed door. “He… he was dead. I… We saw him die. What manner of foul magic…”

“Inquisitor.” Solas cleared his throat, having barely collected his breath himself. “We must push forward. The answer lies ahead.”

Progressing through the temple she chose to follow in the path of the ancient ritual. Solas seemed adamite about it and she held faith in his words. By the time they encountered the ancient elves she was tired. Physically, mentally and there was little urge to struggle. Luckily it seemed the leader was also of a similar mind, until Morrigan turned into a bird and flew after him. Again, forced to follow one of them, they could hear the fighting echoing through the walls. Art and relics of old littered the temple and Kyrie felt a sorrow deep within. All of these things lost to Solas’s people and so close. If only they could have discovered this at a different time. In another way. “I’m sorry Solas.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Solas seemed genuinely confused as Kyrie caught up to him. “All of this history. Your people have lost so much. I wish we could spend more time learning, reading and restoring. I’m sorry we are watching so much of it be destroyed.” 

“Ah, yes. There is much history here. I appreciate the thought, Inquisitor. Perhaps one day, the elvhen will be restored. But I do not see it being exactly as it once was. Too much has been lost.” Solas gave her a slight smile, before he motioned towards the woman leading them through the building. “She says we may take what we need then exit through those doors. We are not to return.” 

“Thank you,” Kyrie bowed her head softly towards the woman. “I don’t need anything. It isn’t mine to take.” Heading towards the door she pushed through. “Look!” 

Cullen felt the ground shake and heard the roar. “Get down!” He yelled as the dragon grazed over them. “Shit.” He was soaked from head to toe now in cooper rich water, red with more than he cared to think about. Rising he looked about, doing a quick head count. In the first pass he’d lost two men. Now, checking again he was relieved to only be missing one more. “We can’t take it head on. Stick close to the ruins, keep your eyes up.” They were in an opening, too open for his comfort. In order to survive they would need to get further in. Not too much further but close enough that the building and trees would obscure the beast’s sight. 

Before he could utter a command, there came a loud howl. Something he’d never heard before. Nothing human or dragon as far as he could figure. But there was a distinctive crack of magic across the field, it made his spine tingle and his vision blur for a moment. When he managed to regain himself, the area was quiet. Holding his own breath, he listened in. A gust of wind nearly toppled him, and he knew then it was the dragon. Popping out from behind the thick oak tree he caught sight of the dragon as it flew off. 

Kyrie slammed her fists against the darkened mirror. “No, no, no, no!” Pressing her forehead against it she closed her eyes. “My people…”

“We can get back to Skyhold through the eluvian I brought.” Morrigan was speaking but her eyes were distant as she looked about. “The… over there.” 

Kyrie gritted her jaw and rose, “we need to hurry.” There was only one thought in her head. Corypheus would be enraged, beyond anything she’d done to date and her people, Cullen and her father, were out there. In the direct line of an immortal man. “He… he can’t die.”

“Yes, and no.” Morrigan was still under the effects of the well, her fingers twitching in random patterns as she mumbled under her breath. “I… I need time. Too many voices, all too fast, but they know. There is a way.” 

“That will have to be enough for now.” Kyrie let out a long sigh as she looked over to Solas. He was quiet, more so than normal as they strolled through the place Morrigan referred to as the Crossroads. It would have been something else to see, and experience had her mind not been somewhere else. “I appreciate your concern, Inquisitor. Truly, you have a very kind heart. One I was not expecting.” 

“Solas, I’m so sorry. The eluvian…”

“We are alive to stop Corypheus, that is more important. If he is left uncheck there will be nothing left to save.” Again, he wore a soft smile that helped to put her at ease. “Once this is all over, we shall make sure the elves get access to the temple, and all it’s knowledge. No one else will take that from them. I promise you.” 

“Inquisitor.” Morrigan broke the conversation as she waved her hand over a mirror. “We have arrived.” 

Cullen finished peeling the last bit of sopping wet clothes off. There was no sign of the Inquisitor or her people. And Leliana had begun packing up whatever she could. Josephine got word, they had arrived back at Skyhold, escaping through the eluvian. They were safe. She was safe. That was the moment he felt he could relax. Come morning they were going to ride back. He’d left several men in charge of collecting the fallen, tending to the wounded and pulling everyone back. It would take weeks before the entire army returned to Skyhold. Time he couldn’t waste. Time Leliana and Josephine couldn’t waste. 

He’d been fighting for nearly two days with little rest. Barely keeping his eyes open he just managed to remove his soiled clothes and armor. Standing bare in the small temporary shower he pulled the cord, letting the warm water cascade over him. Hanging his head, he closed his eyes, trying to stay just wake enough to finish. Letting it go he took the bar of soap and scrubbed. It was thick over his skin, caked on dirt, blood and several small wounds. Nothing deep, that much he was aware of. Many would probably scar seeing as he didn’t tend to them right away. Pulling the cord again he rinsed away the grim and gore. Reaching for the towel, he dabbed at his face. Wrapping himself in it he made his way back to his tent. “Baron von Plucky.” He grumbled it out at the bird, “I have nothing for your efforts. But they are appreciated all the same.” Untying the message, he flopped onto his cot. “Upon my return I promise a treat.” Barely able to keep his eyes open he blinked hard before struggling against himself. His hand fell to his chest, fingers still wrapped around the letter. Unable to stay awake he slipped into a restful sleep. 

Kyrie paced up and down the battlements. There had been no reply, no word from Cullen. Her second raven was intent upon finding Leliana. She would surely know what was going on, and the casualty report. Ringing her hands, her heart was beating heavily in her chest. Word should have come by now. Despite the distance and their rapid return, there should have been something. Anything. Little bits of information had filtered in, but no word to her people. Orlais spoke of minor losses and a huge victory. Fereldan sent word of thanks and congratulations, several carts promised of goods. But it meant nothing if she didn’t know if her people were safe, if he was safe. 

As the sun dipped low over the horizon she finally gave up and made the slow, dragging walk back to her quarters. Knowing full well sleep wasn’t going to be something that came early. Not until she knew, knew something. Stripping down she crawled under the covers, the sun long vanished from the sky, the sliver of a moon barely casting any light. Tear began to slip down her cheeks, her mind rolling through the worst-case scenarios. “Leliana probably couldn’t bring herself to put it on paper.” Mumbling it out she shook her head and rose, tossing the blanket back. Grabbing her thick cloak, she wrapped it about her shoulders and went through the balcony doors. 

Staring out over the mountain scape she drew in a deep breath. It had grown cool outside, the icy wind chilling her. “Please be safe.” Running her fingers over the coin she felt a pang of guilt bubble up. “I should have never taken this. You needed it more than I did. It seems I always had a bit of luck, now I feel I stole yours.” Carefully returning the coin to her bra band she felt heavier. Dragging herself back to her bed she caught the gentle click of her bedroom door. “Leave me, I do not wish to be disturbed.”

“Even for your dad.” Edward came up the steps a small tray in his hands. “I figured you could use a bit of a pick me up.” Cresting over the top step he smiled. “I’m sorry I didn’t come see you sooner. You’ve been a bit hard to track down since your sudden arrival.” Placing the tray down he barely managed to turn in time before Kyrie was wrapped around him, sobbing hard into his chest. “There, there.” He cooed softly as he rubbed her back, “have faith my darling. He’s just fine. Probably taking a well needed rest. If I know him well enough.” Edward calmly stroked her head. “We’ve just heard from Leliana. Casualties are low but wounded are high in numbers. Her words were, the advisers will return ahead of the army. I find it hard to believe she meant anything less than the three of them.” 

Sniffling heavy Kyrie pulled her face up, “you don’t know that. I… He… I can’t.”

“Kiki,” Edward cupped his daughter’s face in his palm, “you need to rest. You haven’t slept in two days. This isn’t doing you any good.” Pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead he pulled her back into himself. “I brought you something to help you sleep. Please, my sweet child, please drink it.” Reaching back, he took the cup off the tray. “I swear to you I will not leave you alone. But I am begging you, you need to care for yourself and rest.” 

She had to admit it, she was exhausted, nearly delusional as she took the cup from his hands. “Alright.” It was barely uttered out before she quickly knocked down the drink. Instantly she started to feel lighter, like a warm blanket was wrapped around her. “I need… if he…”

“I promise.” Edward lifted her up and carried her over to her bed. It wasn’t a long walk over but by the time he reached it, she was deep asleep. Placing her down onto the mattress, he carefully untied her cloak and hung it up where he’d seen it last. Then he tugged the blanket up around her before leaning down to place a kiss to her cheek. “Sleep, you need it.”

Cullen grumbled as he stretched out, light streamed in through the slit the tent flaps left a gape. Through the fog of wakefulness, he carefully rose to a sit. Everything ached, and his head throbbed. Fighting for as long as he had, had taken its toll. Looking down at his body he could see the deep bruising patterns splattered over most of his skin. Coming to stand his muscles protested loudly. Ignoring them he rolled his neck before reaching for his clothes. Leliana and Josephine had pushed hard for their return. Eager to return to Skyhold himself he was quick to pack up.

Leliana was busy at the fire, tending a small breakfast as Josephine finished securing her pack to their horses. “Good morning Cullen,” Josephine smiled over her shoulder. “How are you faring today?”

“A little worse for wear but able.” Cullen joined her, strapping his pack down. “I believe it will be a few days before I’ll be able to properly tend to rigorous training.” Rubbing his sword arm shoulder, he turned back to Leliana, “are we ready to leave?”

“After we eat. You have neglected yourself in our push to return. We can’t have the Commander collapsing at the gates, can we.” Rising Leliana met him halfway, handing him a bowl. “Eat. Then we can leave. If we make good time and the weather stays on our side, we’ll arrive with another day or two.”

“Then we should hurry.” Cullen took the bowl and nodded before taking a seat near the dwindling fire. Every moment was lost time and he knew well enough Corypheus would not remain idle for long. They had won at every turn, at every battle and now it was a matter of point that he would come for them personally. Cullen had thought about it extensively upon his horse as they rode. Skyhold was solid, a perfect location to withstand the assault he’d attempted at Haven. More so they had leveled a good chunk of his forces. It would be nearly impossible for him to amass the presence he had at Haven, or the devasting effect, and that knowledge let Cullen sleep. But would that stop a man wanting to be a God? Clearly up to this point nothing had deterred the fiend and now that Kyrie had stolen his artifact, he would want revenge. 

The last leg of their journey he wondered about the letter sent by Edward. Kyrie was not well, he understood that much from his coded words, but not much more. Something about a well and Morrigan having some power. With the length being what it was Josephine, Leliana and Cullen went over the collective information they had, ensuring once they arrived, they would be easily brought up to speed. Something Edward insisted on doing himself. Further worrying Cullen. 

Their reports on the battle and wounded came into Skyhold normally. Edward stayed with Kyrie, reading over reports and enforcing that Cullen was well and would be returning soon. It was a bitter pill for her to hear the numbers. Several of the men she knew, had spent time talking with and it stung her to know once again she’d lost people. Morrigan disappeared for a solid five days after their arrival, absorbed in the voices bantering about in her head. Finally, the day her advisers were set to return, Morrigan requested her time. In a calm voice she explained how Corypheus remained immortal. It was a trick, a bit of old magic tying him to this world through the dragon he kept at his beck and call. If they could subdue the beast, the master would be rendered mortal. Before Kyrie could panic over fighting a dragon, Morrigan waved her hand and smiled wide, “I can match his dragon. You shall only need to get to him.”

“Are you certain? This is a great undertaking and I will not needlessly throw more lives away.” 

“While your concern is appreciated, I am confident I can succeed. You need only deal with the darkspawn.” Tipping her head Morrigan’s eyes glazed over again. “Thank you, again, for the other day.”

“I’m just glad Kieran’s alright. Take some time to rest. I fear I will be calling upon you far too soon.” Kyrie’s brow knit tightly before she turned her back to return to her quarters. They had won a decisive victory against Corypheus, but they had lost many during it. She wanted to honor them, all of them, who’d lost their lives. She’d spoken to Vivienne about it, who agreed whole heartedly. But when she went to think of all the tasks and chores involved all she wanted to do was curl up in bed. Just forget the day and rest. Her mother had warned her before of this, this darkness that sometimes-encircled people. Warned her to be wary of the signs and to seek friendship. Stopping herself in the garden she turned for the tavern. Bull would be inside at this hour, drinking in his favourite corner, and she knew well enough he could do something no one had offered; to listen.


	26. Eternal Flame

Cullen was thankful to see the walls of Skyhold as they rose over the hill and prepared to cross the bridge. It had been a hard travel, but one that was quiet. More so than he imagined it would be. Not a single time along their route did they encounter any resistance. It was something that gnawed at him. Jumping down from his horse his legs were tired, his eyes sore and the hour was drawing ever darker. “Rest, we can meet in the morning. I’m certain we all miss our beds.” Josephine huffed as she tried to stretch, her body exhausted from the ride. “I will have things prepared for morning.” 

“A sound idea.” Leliana grunted as she pressed the heels of her palms into the small of her back, a low pop echoing out. “Commander, rest well.” 

“I shall try.” He bobbed his head in agreement before he handed the servant his pack and equipment. His sword had taken a beating, the edge worn and ragged. The shield dented and chipped in several spots. Not hard fixes but repairs all the same. He hadn’t said a word, but his body too held a few more scars and dents, some that would take more time than he could afford to heal. Taking a quick glance about he knew exactly where he wanted to go; the bathhouse. Nothing would stop him now from indulging in the blessed heat of a bath.

Kyrie was in a fog when she heard the horn blast and her nerves were too frayed to go to the gate. It wasn’t until a messenger brought word that she finally felt as if her lungs held air. “All three advisers have returned. Due to the lateness of the hour they wish to convene in the morning.”

“Understandable. Thank you.” She barely held herself together, thankful to be sitting at her desk. For certain had she been standing she would have crumpled. Drawing in a couple deep breathes she tried to calm her racing heart. Closing her eyes, she finally let her shoulders ease, the tension bleeding into exhaustion. But she needed to move, needed to see him. Touch his face, feel the heat from his skin. To know more than a hopeful thought, and quick message that he was truly back. 

Gathering her strength, she rose, feeling a wobble in her legs she flopped back down. Staring at the paper in front of her she growled. “Maker really!?” Pressing her back against the chair she looked over her should, it was already dark out, the stars twinkling in the navy swirl above the peaks. Hanging her head, she felt like a petulant child, wanting to do something when she was told she could not. Huffing she had half a mind to demand he come to her, send word that he need to present himself before her immediately. It brought a chuckle to her lips thinking about it. Rising again, her legs seemed a bit more solid. Pacing to the side of the hearth her hand hovered over the pully, her mind calculating how it would be perceived. Wringing her hands, she huffed loudly, “I’m damned if I don’t and I’m damned if I do.”

“Who’s damning you?” Cullen’s voice filtered up and she nearly squealed. Biting her bottom lip, she could barely contain herself as she waited for him to finish ascending her stairs. Scanned over his features she caught some bruises upon his neck area and face, a few small healing cuts and some deep circles about his eyes. Typical of someone who’d endured a battle. But he was whole, no missing parts or deep gaping wounds. Placing her hand over her heart she struggled to hold the tears in, “Cullen.” It was a barely a squeak from her lips as she felt her feet cement to the floor. 

Cullen in all his grace strolled towards her, his own eagerness barely in check. She looked a little worse for the wear and his mind wondered what she’d endured at the final confrontation. He’d caught up on the papers at his desk, reading her lengthy report over twice before he needed to see her. Be sure she was alright. Taking another step forward he reached for her and she practically leapt into his arms. Chuckling against her, he let out a sigh, “I had to know. I… I must know. Did you mean it? I… My ability to read your code is very good, but I need to know. I… I need to hear it.” 

He was referring to the letter, the one delivered upon Baron von Plucky’s wing nearly a week ago now. It was in their usual code, one he’d learned to read nearly as well as standard basic. Reading it over several time he committed the words to memory. “Dearest Cullen, I find myself in the worst position known to my existence. I survived, escaped through the eluvian and am safe within the walls of Skyhold. But you aren’t. I couldn’t breathe, the air seeming to be sucked from my chest when I thought of you being left behind. Left in the path of Corypheus. There are things about him I cannot dare mention in writing. But there is one thing I can mention here and feel I must. I know within every fiber of my being this one truth; I love you. It is a poor thing to put on paper and not to say face to face, but I fear the worst. And if you be injured, I need you to fight, to heal and come back to me. I need to be able to say this to you, face to face. Please, forgive my blathering and just know that I’ve decided where I need to be, and its simple; with you.” 

“I meant every word.” Kyrie stood firm despite the tremble in her legs, the weakness of her knees threatening to buckle her under. “I…” Swallowing hard she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Cullen waited, holding his own breath. “I love you.” She opened her eyes just as she spoke the words, her cheeks flushed scarlet. “I… I…”

“I love you too.” Cullen blurted the words out, feeling them burst inside. “I… Kyrie.” He gazed into her eyes; the vibrant colour replaced but disks of ebony. Within himself he could feel the stirring, the urges building. A smirk grew out of the corner of his lips, “it’s almost too much to ask.”

“You never had to.” Kyrie wrapped her arms around his neck, crossing her wrists behind his head. “I think I’ve known that for some time now.” Cullen chuckled and let his head fall forward, “Maker I never knew how badly I needed to hear that.” Licking his bottom lip into his mouth he closed his eyes for a second, just soaking in the moment, struggling with the options in his head. Her warm fingertip upon his chin, gingerly lift his head up snapped him from his thoughts, “Cullen?” Barely above a whisper his name came from her lips and it made his heart soar. The second his eyes met hers he decided. Leaning in he stopped just a breath away from her lips, “tell me to leave and I will. Tell me to stay and I will.”

“Stay. Maker please stay.” 

Cullen didn’t need to hear another word, he knew the tone of her voice, the way her eyes danced he knew. Maker, he knew. Wrapping her up in his arms he pulled her against him, the sound of her gasp thrilled him. Tonight, he was going to make more than that come from her lips and he was going to treasure every last one. Worship her like she deserved, like he’d been craving for some time. Bringing his hand up to her face, he cradled it for just one last second before he tilted his head slightly and leaned into her. His kiss was passion and fury, hungry and insatiable. When she returned his eagerness, he felt a surge of confidence rush through him. Reaching down, he scooped her up, instantly her legs wrapped about his waist and he wanted to melt into her. 

It wasn’t a far walk to the bed and he was gentle as he carefully laid her down, his eyes roaming over her face before he dove in again to seal his lips against hers. Hands clawed at clothes, eager to meet skin. Kyrie was aggressive, tearing at the ties to his shirt and pants. Each freed themselves of their shirts, pausing only briefly, their eyes soaking in the vision before them. Cullen was in awe of her, a lengthy scar scrawled across her body from her left hip up to just under her right breast. It was long healed, silver in colour, but he could tell at the time it would have been deep. Nearly fatal. Reaching out his fingers barely danced over the edges of the scar, “Kyrie…”

“Not now,” taking his hand in hers, she brought it to her lips, placing a kiss to the tips. “Please.” Taking his hand in hers she drew him down, till his chest was flush with hers, till his lips were back upon hers in a passionate kiss. He wasn’t Blackwall, or Dorian or any of the men she’d seen before. Cullen was flesh and blood, wounded and raw, someone unique and real. Scarred and beaten, revived and lifted he was someone she’d never have thought of before. Never in a million years could she have ever seen herself with a man like him. Now as he crawled onto the bed, his pants discarded with hers to the floor, all she could think of was him. His breath hot against her neck, lips teasing and tasting her skin. Sighing out she was lost in the sensation, the heat building within her, threatening to burn her alive and Maker she wanted it to. 

Cullen was feeling it too, his skin resonating with each touch. When she wrapped her legs about his waist, he felt like he was going to implode. It was all too much and not enough. “May… May I?” 

Kyrie grinned and let out a soft puffing chuckle, “please Cullen. Make love to me.” It was the softness of her voice, the flush pink tickling her cheeks, how her eyes sparkled at him that melted his heart. Burning her soul into each beat. Etching her name into the fabric of his being. Unable to utter a word or find the right ones he returned her words with a kiss. Full of all the vigor he wished she could feel, housed within every electric circuit of his body. 

Pressing his chest against her, he could feel the heat from her body radiate through him, basking him in rich warmth. He could feel it, the slickness pooling between them. Letting out a slow huff against her lips he edged himself towards her entrance. Ever gentle, ever patient he took his time, mindful always of her comfort. 

Slow and steady, enraptured in each other’s soft moans between deep kisses, they melded as one. Each movement met and propelled into another high, that ended far sooner than either had hoped for. But far more importantly both felt an utter sense of satisfaction. Something that went beyond words, and Cullen hadn’t been able to think of a single thing. Collapsing down onto the bed beside her, he drew in a long deep breath, trying to still the racing of his heart. 

“Cullen…” Kyrie curled into him, toying with the thin coils of golden hair flecking his chest. “Stay with me. Don’t leave.”

“I hadn’t planned on it.” Cullen sighed as he wrapped his arm about her. “You should rest. Tomorrow will bring more issues.”

“It always does.” Her heart felt heavy. There was so much she wanted to say, so many things she needed to tell him, but now wasn’t the time. Sleep was rapidly tugging her down and she could see his eyes flutter, struggling to stay awake. “Thank you.” She pressed a quick kiss to his chest before resting her head over his heart. It was the steady, strong, rhythmic beating she had grown to memorize. Smiling she closed her eyes, counting each thump until she slipped into a deep sleep.

Morning isn’t what woke her. Skyhold shook, an intense pulse that seemed to rumble the very foundations. Rising with a snap she looked about, an intense green light poured in through the balcony doors and she knew well enough exactly what had happened. Jumping from the bed she went to the drawers and dressed, Cullen uttering half slurred words in his waking state. Until he too saw the glow emanating. “No… Maker no…” he half crumpled. “Kyrie.”

“I have to go. This ends now.” Her face fell as she struggled to tie her hair up. “I will return. I swear it.” Rushing over to his side she pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “There is too much left for me not to return.” Wiping at the tear clinging to his cheek she hurried away. Staying another moment would only make things harder. 

Rushing into the main hall she came face to face with her companions, all dressed and ready. “It’s time.” Nodding she turned to see Morrigan strolling towards them. “His impatience is clear. He’s torn the Breach wide. If we don’t stop him now, Thedas will fall. I am ready, if you are.”

“We need a dragon, last you told me. Are you able to get us to the Breach? It’s a days ride at the quickest and we haven’t the time.” Kyrie fiddled with the medicine pouch she’d grabbed from her drawer. Her fingertips skating along the corked tops of bottles, counting them as they all rushed to the courtyard. Not enough room in the main hall to transform the petite woman into the dragon she claimed she could manage. 

Cullen sat, naked and in shock on the edge of the bed. The room was bathed in the horrible glow of green. A constant reminder of the creatures he knew were steadily streaming down outside. Where it all began; the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It took everything in him to stand and dress, and in earnest his body did it out of habit more than thought. Mindless and automatic as he tied his trousers and slipped on his boots. Eventually his feet moved him down the steps and out into the main hall. It was empty, not a single person mulling about. He could hear the chatter echoing as he looked towards the entrance to the main hall doors. People stood, lined up in the entrance all a gasp as they stared at the renewed Breach. Wider than before and seemingly stronger. Even with the lyrium gone from his system he could feel the surge flow over his skin. Through his clothes and armor. With little else to do and no time to waste he took charge. Commanding those remaining soldiers to guard the walls. Keep their eyes open to an enemy attack or demons. They would have little warning and less time to react. Many were still returning from the Wilds. Rushing down the steps he caught the flare of green strike down just outside the gates. 

Kyrie screamed out as Morrigan fell from the sky, her dragon form beaten. “She’d done the bulk of the work; we just need to finish it.” Bull gritted his teeth, wrapping his thick hands around the axe grip. Shouting in Qunlat he raced forward, Thom, Cassandra and Cole behind him. Kyrie spun spell after spell, trying to protect them. Absorbing the fire, she spread it around herself, a wicked grin along her lips. “I said I was fire!” She shouted, looking over to see Corypheus watching his pet. “I will burn you!” As the dragon reared up, Kyrie pulled, taking the fire from its breath and snuffing it out. Her limbs ached, her body strained, it was a massive amount of mana. But Bull got in first, leveling a massive blow to the dragon’s head, nearly severing it in one stroke. Thom and Cassandra followed up, cleaving it from the beast’s shoulders. Kyrie leaned upon her staff, watching in shock as a ball of concentrated energy flew from the slain creature back to Corypheus. Even from the distance she knew he was afraid, she could feel it. 

“Morrigan,” Cassandra went to her side. “She is gravely wounded.”

“I will do what I can. Go,” Vivienne dropped to her side and began working her magic. Kyrie could feel her body failing, her energy tapped. With a shaking hand she reached for her pouch. 

Cullen flicked his wrist out, the black blood ooze splattered to the ground from the tip of his blade. “How are you fairing Edward?”

“Just fine. Can you keep up?” He retorted slashing through another shade demon. “I think I’m at fourteen.” 

“Fifteen,” Cullen stabbed through an unwary despair demon as it floated by. “No fair. He was dodging Parson’s arrow.” Edward chuckled as he scanned the field, letting out a long gasp. “Cullen! The Breach!”

Kyrie’s head was spinning, it had only been a small potion, just barely a sip but the whole floating chunk of land was teeming with red lyrium. As the blood freely spilled from her nose, she could barely make out Solas’s eager words as she staggered forward. “Petulant child!” Corypheus yelled as he rose from the ground, his wounds bleeding profusely. “Dumat, hear me!” Planting her feet, she swiped at her nose and let out a chorus of laughter. “You claim to be a God, yet you beg to a long dead blighted toy.” Spitting she pulled at the mana in her body. “Just as he was dispatched by a better being, so shall you. Nameless, empty false God.” She blanketed him in a tornado of flames, twisting and turning it. Her marked hand itched and rose on it’s own. The magic pulled at the elvhen orb and snapped it to her. “Perhaps ashes best belong in a nameless place.” Pushing out she tore a rift inside of him, his howls echoed into the emptiness as he was sucked inside. 

Staggering again she looked up, knowing all to well what was needed. Reaching into her pouch she grabbed an elfroot potion first. Knocking that back she grabbed for the open lyrium potion. “Solas, be prepared.”

“I am.” He stood next to her; his hands ready to catch her. Knocking back the few drops inside she felt the cold chill slip down her spine before it was replaced with pure lava. Screaming she thrust her marked hand up, the orb floating and spinning viciously. 

Cullen and Edward watched as the beam of light shot up and stitched the sky closed once more. “She did it!” Edward jumped up, pumping his fist into the air. Only to have the words sucked from his lungs. Cullen reached for Edward as the man stumbled back. Before them the floating remains of the temple began to fall.

Kyrie struggled, using every bit of energy she could muster to hold the barrier about her companions and herself. “Solas! I’m losing it…” She gritted as she slipped to one knee. Barely holding it together she felt the crumbling pieces tumble about her, the rock they all shared crashed into the ground with enough force to hurl her down as well. Grunting loudly, she could feel the blood coming from her lip. “Solas…”

“Take slow breaths. Please,” he wore a soft smile, the one she’d become used to seeing late at night around the fire. When they spoke on magic, the arcane and mysteries she pondered about the world. He complimented her time and again on her openness, and willingness to learn, with the same patient smile he wore now. “You will survive. Live well, dear friend.” He touched her face gently, applying his healing magics before she closed her eyes. 

Cullen was with Edward, rounding up the fastest horses and carriage he could find. “We need to get there. There will be wounded. You!” Yelling at the two mages standing by he locked eyes with them. “Healers, we need at least two and lyrium. Potions, and elfroot mixtures. Hurry!”

“Yes Ser!” One jumped immediately and rushed about collecting items. The other grabbed for two more men. Edward was beside himself, white as a sheet as the sky let out one more mournful ache that thundered over them before drawing silent. 

Bull bent down, “she’s alive!” He yelled over his shoulder as he gingerly picked her up, cradling her like a fine porcelain doll. “We… we need to get…”

“Where is Solas?” Cassandra stood upon a larger section of stone, looking about. “I do not see him.” 

“I can aid, but we must return to Skyhold. I won’t be able to do much as I am now. Certainly, you are spent as well Vivienne.” Dorian looked over, still trying to catch his breath. “You are correct, unfortunately. I used all I could to mend Morrigan.”

“I’ll carry her.” Bull began the slow walk as the companions traipsed through the rubble.

Kyrie was keenly aware of how stiff she was. How utterly sore every bit of muscle felt. Hissing between her teeth she couldn’t move. That much was painfully clear to her. Cracking an eye open she was aware of her surroundings, “Skyhold.”

“Kyrie!” Cullen’s voice croaked as he half fell out of the chair. “You’re awake!” Stumbling up he knelt next to her, “Maker’s breath you scared the life out of me.”

“My apologizes.” Kyrie weakly smiled. “I had a God to kill.” Sliding her hand across the bed took everything inside of her. Placing her fingers in his palm she let out a long breath, “everything is miserable. How… How long was I asleep for?”

“Nearly a week.” Cullen took her hand and carefully brought it to his lips. “There were moments I didn’t… I couldn’t…” Choking on the words he quickly cleared his throat. “But you will be just fine. No more God slaying.” He weakly chuckled before pressing his lips to her hand. “Just, rest.”

“Seeing as you are my advisor,” she mumbled before yawning, “I shall take your advice. On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Stay with me.”

“For as long as you will have me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been one hell of a ride. One I am more than thankful you all have come along on. Kyrie was an interesting character to play with, to see grown and develop. As always you can find me on Tumblr [ Until the next one!](https://kierarutherford.tumblr.com)


End file.
